


Strong in the Broken Places

by tridecaphilia



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Aftercare, Agender Character, Alternate Universe - College/University, Coming Out, Dom/sub, Domestic Violence, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Forced Marriage, Implied/Referenced Torture, Incest, Kidnapping, Kink Negotiation, M/M, No Sex, Past Child Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Physical Abuse, Psychological Torture, Recovery, Therapy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-23
Updated: 2017-08-01
Packaged: 2018-11-03 21:42:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 25,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10975890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tridecaphilia/pseuds/tridecaphilia
Summary: Isa's life is starting to solidify. They're going to college three states away, they're set up to get a single in December, and they've finally memorized their phone screen so they can delete their texts without reading them. Now if only they could convince Lea that their secrets aren't worth chasing.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> In case any of you didn't read the tags, this fic is going to contain MAJOR triggers. We're going to skirt just inside of any of the archive warnings, but we're going deep into pretty much every form of abuse that can be done to a person.
> 
> Anyway, the plan for this is to update once a week, this time on Mondays, until we're done. We'll see how good I am at sticking to that.

_ “The world breaks everyone and afterward many are strong in the broken places.” _

_ ~Ernest Hemingway _

Lea’s new roommate was an artist.

He must have come in and started putting his stuff up while Lea was on the tour. He wasn’t in the room now, but he’d already started unpacking. And there was a sketchbook on his desk.

Lea stared at it, resisting the urge to open it and start paging through it. What did his new roommate draw? he wondered. What would he find if he opened that sketchbook?

Not that he knew much about art. Probably he’d end up offending the guy if he commented on it. That was the usual reaction when Lea opened his mouth about stuff other people thought was important.

His fingers itched with how badly he wanted to take a peek, but he flopped onto the bed instead. His roommate would be back soon, most likely. He could pester him about his art then. Until then, he was going to take a nap.

He’d barely closed his eyes, however, when he heard voices from the hallway. Instinctively, he tuned in.

“--appeal to the president,” a woman was saying. “You deserve a single, Isa.”

Isa. His roommate was named Isa.

“Mom, it’s fine.” That voice was softer; Lea had to strain to make it out. A boy’s voice, soft and laced with some emotion Lea couldn’t place. “I can live with a roommate.”

“You shouldn’t  _ have _ to,” the woman insisted. “If we’d known--”

“Mom,” the younger voice--Isa--said again. “It’s done. I just--want to get this over with.”

“You should be home with us,” the woman said.

“I can’t,” Isa, voice suddenly quieter and twisted with some bitterness Lea couldn’t place.

A new voice cut in, a man’s voice. “He’ll be gone by the time you come home for Thanksgiving,” the man said seriously. “I promise you that, Isa.”

“That’s what you said about summer,” Isa said. “When you sent me to Grandma’s. But he’s still there.”

“Isa…” The man trailed off, sounding helpless. “He’s my brother.”

“And I’m your child!” Isa wasn’t being quiet anymore. Now he was louder, angry. “I’m supposed to be your priority here!”

Christ. It hadn’t occurred to Lea at first, how private this conversation was clearly meant to be. Eavesdropping was a longstanding habit, a survival mechanism in his world. Now it was dawning on him that he shouldn’t have been listening to  _ this. _

Unfortunately, there was no way out. They were right outside the door, and he couldn’t get out without alerting them that he’d been listening. The window wasn’t an option; they were on the second floor, and anyway, college dorm windows didn’t open. He only had one recourse. It had kept him out of the line of fire through enough bad times. Hopefully it would work now.

He rolled onto his side facing the wall, closed his eyes, and pretended very hard to sleep.

It took effort not to parse what he could half-hear through the wall, but he distracted himself the same way he had so many times. He started playing music in his head, running through all the most obnoxious songs he could think of until the voices stopped and the door opened.

Soft footsteps, the footsteps of someone who had learned to sneak around as a matter of course. Lea walked like that, or he used to. Those footsteps stuttered, and Lea realized with a jolt that he’d started to turn toward the sound automatically. His pretense at being asleep--

“So,” the boy said. Isa. Lea’s new roommate. “How much of that did you hear?”

Lea winced and rolled over to face Isa, getting his first look at him.

Isa was  _ pretty. _

Lea hadn’t expected that when he was listening to him. Isa sounded so sullen, so bitterly angry, he hadn’t expected the face he saw. Pretty, fine-boned features, hair as blue as Lea’s was red, a frame that was slender but seemed made to fight rather than run. He wore a blue varsity jacket for some sport Lea couldn’t identify offhand, and white jeans and ratty sneakers. He was pale, like he hadn’t seen sun in the past few years; and right now, though Lea expected him to look angry and offended, he just looked resigned.

Lea sat up, scratching the back of his head. “Ah, I wasn’t--”

“Don’t bother,” Isa said, scratching his forehead irritably. “And don’t bother asking. It’s none of your business.”

Lea’s immediate, instinctive reaction was to ask anyway, to  _ insist _ on answers. But, well…

“What do you draw?”

The question startled Isa. Lea was practiced at reading people who didn’t want to be read, or he’d never have noticed the subtle widening of his eyes. But it was there. “Draw?” Isa repeated.

“Yeah.” Lea nodded to the sketchbook on the desk. “I, um. I saw that.”

Isa’s mouth twisted. “And you didn’t just look inside?”

“Well… no.”

Isa glanced at the sketchbook. Lea wondered if he’d memorized its placement down to the inch, when he put it on the desk. Lea would have.

“It’s private,” Isa said.

There was a challenge in those words. It was all Lea could do not to rise to it. But he forced the word out. “Okay.”

That line of questioning ruled out, it was all Lea could do not to embark on the next. Why was Isa afraid of his uncle? Why were his parents fighting over him? Why was Isa supposed to get a single, and if he was, why didn’t he have one?

But Isa wouldn’t answer any of those questions. In his place, Lea wouldn’t either.

Lea flopped back onto his bed, tucking his hands behind his head. “So, you an art major?”

“Undecided,” Isa said, raking a hand through his hair. “You?”

“Same.”

It wasn’t that Lea didn’t know what he wanted to do. But his parents had other ideas. They wanted a doctor, or a politician, or a major businessman. They didn’t want him to be what he wanted. He had to imagine that Isa’s story wasn’t that dissimilar.

They needed something to talk about without crossing into the thousand and one things each of them didn’t want to talk about. To Lea, that meant only one thing. “You hungry?”

~

He hadn’t looked in their sketchbook.

Admittedly, it had been stupid to leave the sketchbook on the desk where anyone who wanted to  _ might _ look at it. But Isa had wanted to believe that they  _ had _ something again.

And Lea had let them keep it.

He’d finally remembered to introduce himself after they’d left the dorm to go get food and get to know each other, but Isa had already known his name. Lea Connors, the boy Isa was going to spend the next year with. Maybe longer. Maybe less time--they could reapply for a single at the end of term, when the mid-year graduates were clearing out.

Lea hadn’t asked. He’d listened, he knew what he’d heard--but when they told him not to ask, he didn’t. And in return, they hadn’t asked him why he’d been so intent on pretending to sleep, even though he was very bad at it.

Their phone buzzed in their pocket, a sound they’d chosen very specifically to be perfectly innocuous to anyone but them. Their hand twitched toward their pocket instinctively.

“You gonna answer that?” Lea asked, green eyes sharp on their hand.

If they answered, he’d see them react to it. He might even see the text before they managed to delete it.

“No,” they said, shoving their hand deep in their pocket. Without looking, they swiped their thumb over the screen, deleting the message without looking at it.

“Ex-girlfriend?” Lea asked.

Isa looked at him sharply. Lea was grinning innocently, hands tucked behind his head.

Lea caught the look, but he misinterpreted it. “Ex- _ boyfriend? _ ” he asked. “Hey, man, no judgment whichever way you swing.”

“Don’t call me that,” Isa snapped, hackles up. Lea’s apparently innocent guess was too close to the truth for comfort. Was he only pretending not to recognize them? He could have lived in their hometown back then, he could have seen the news.

_ Shut up, _ they ordered that paranoid voice in their head. Lea was their age. He would’ve been all of ten years old when the news stories broke, just like them. And no one had ever leaked their name or face to the press, only the rough appearance of their scar--a scar that, through treatments and time and avoiding the sun as much as possible, was invisible anymore. There was no feasible way Lea could know.

But still, they worried. Lea seemed so sure of himself, so teasing.

They hoped he didn’t know. They didn’t want to talk about it, and people  _ always _ wanted to talk about it when they found out.

But Lea didn’t.

They ended up in the Student Union, surrounded by different choices. Lea headed for the grill and its burgers and fries. Isa hesitated, looking around.

The text had unsettled them, even without their actually looking at it. That was the point, of course. Make them feel unsettled being away from him, unsettled  _ disobeying _ him. Drive them back into his arms, back to their knees at his feet.

They weren’t going back. They’d sworn that to themself over and over. They were  _ never _ going back.

They just wished they had somewhere else to go.

“Are you not hungry?”

Isa snapped back to alertness to find Lea standing in front of them with a tray full of burger, fries, and soda balanced in one hand and his other two inches from Isa’s shoulder.

They didn’t think. They just reacted, jerking back out of arm’s reach and lifting their hands defensively, reaching to grab his arm, twist and break it--

“Whoa!”

Lea pulled away instead of fighting back, and that was all it took for Isa to remember themself and pull back as well. Their breathing was ragged, eyes wide.

“Don’t touch me,” they hissed. “Don’t--don’t  _ ever _ touch me.”

“Okay,” Lea said, one hand holding his tray, one up in a harmless gesture. “Okay, I won’t touch you.”

People were starting to look over at them. Isa glanced around, swallowing nervously as they saw eyes on them. They’d wanted so badly to  _ avoid  _ this kind of attention.

“Like I was asking,” Lea said, like nothing had happened. “Are you not hungry? You’ve just been standing here the whole time.”

“I…”

They felt sick. Everything they’d done--it was all for nothing. It would  _ always _ be for nothing. He’d always find them, and even when they got away, they’d always be his creature, his--

“Hey,” Lea said. “You don’t look so good. Come on, let’s go sit down.”

“Don’t touch me,” Isa muttered again.

“I won’t,” Lea promised. “Just come with me.”

They followed him, struggling not to wrap their arms around themself or look around guiltily or any of the other hundred things that would draw even more attention than they’d already done by attacking Lea.

“Okay,” Lea said when they were sitting at a table in a quiet corner. “Now, are you hungry?”

They stared at their hands, twisted into a knot on the table. “Starving,” they muttered.

“Okay. You mind if I get you something?”

He sounded so concerned. But a lot of things could hide under a concerned voice.  _ He’d _ always sounded concerned, where anyone could hear. Lea might be the same.

They dragged their eyes up from their hands. They weren’t back there anymore, they weren’t  _ his _ anymore. They didn’t have to be afraid to meet people’s eyes.

Concern. Lea was concerned. And hard as they tried, they couldn’t find a single ulterior motive in that expression.

“I can get something,” they said, but their voice sounded toneless and tinny in their own ears.

“So can I,” Lea said. He shrugged, and there was a change in his expression that Isa couldn’t quite place. His smile was different somehow--not  _ fake, _ exactly, but not the easy smile it had been before. “I just mean, if you want to rest a minute. Panic attacks are brutal.”

“I wasn’t having a panic attack,” they objected, automatic and defensive.

“Sure,” Lea said without arguing. “Well,  _ whatever _ it was, it looked pretty exhausting. So if you want a minute to rest…”

They hated themself for it, but the thought of letting someone else make the decisions for a few minutes was intoxicating.

“I don’t drink Pepsi,” was all they said.

Lea smiled. “They have Coke.”

Isa nodded, looking back at their hands as Lea set off.

He came back a few minutes later, bearing a wrap sandwich, a Coke, and yet more fries.

“I didn’t know what you liked,” he said. “But I was hoping if you were wildly allergic to anything, you’d have told me.”

Their mouth twisted into an expression that felt weirdly like a smile. “I’m not allergic to anything,” they promised. “Not a picky eater, either.”

“Good,” Lea said. “Then I don’t have to feel guilty about spending your meal points on it.”

Now they were really smiling, and were looking down to avoid him noticing it. “It’s good,” they said when they’d taken a bite. And the panic hadn’t gotten bad enough to unsettle their stomach.

“So,” Lea said. “What’s your course lineup for the term?”

He was so--so--they weren’t sure what the word was. Nice? But people weren’t nice in their world. No one had ever been  _ nice _ where they were concerned, not without wanting something in return. What did Lea want?

For now, though, they fell into the easy banter of conversation, trying not to fumble too much over their words. For now, they were a normal kid, and Lea was their roommate, and they were just going to get to know each other.

~

Lea’s phone buzzed as they were on their way back to the dorm. For a minute, he considered not answering it, or just deleting it outright the way Isa had theirs.

And why  _ had _ Isa deleted that message without reading it? He hadn’t even let Lea see who it was from, and that was just making him  _ wildly _ curious. He didn’t do well with curiosity. He’d never let anyone keep a secret from him, not since his parents started fighting every other day.

And that same  _ goddamn _ curiosity wasn’t going to let him delete the message without looking at it, even if he knew he didn’t want to see it.

Sure enough, when he saw it, it was from his mom.

_ Call your father. _

Lea’s face twisted into a sneer before he could stop it, and just like Isa, he deleted the message. But unlike Isa, he shot off a reply first.

_ He’s not my father. _

He turned his phone off. He’d deal with the fallout later. He could handle yelling voicemail better than he could argue with his mom in real time.

“Who was that?” Isa asked.

“Ex-boyfriend,” he said. It was an automatic response, the same lie he’d been giving since the fighting started. It had a nice symmetry to it, this time, since it was also the lie he’d suggested to Isa earlier.

He tried not to remember the fear that had flickered across Isa’s face when they heard that buzz. He tried to pretend he hadn’t already memorized that exact tone, an innocuous series of three chimes. He tried not to let on that anytime he heard those chimes again, he’d be leaning over Isa’s shoulder to see who it belonged to.

Of course, then Isa might feel entitled to lean over  _ his _ shoulder and see his texts from his mom.

Goddamn secrets.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The writing of this fic is moving right along; currently I'm working on chapter five. I'm expecting twenty total, but I have only the loosest of outlines, so we'll see how that actually works out.

Isa was full of secrets. And they were none of Lea’s business, but he couldn’t help being  _ curious. _

He’d woken up in the middle of the night to the sound of a pencil on paper, and by listening closely he’d determined it wasn’t writing. It was drawing--Isa was drawing.

It was all he could do, when he woke up and found Isa asleep, not to open that sketchbook. Had Isa been drawing  _ him? _

He’d distracted himself, eventually, by looking at Isa instead. Awake, his roommate was pretty. Asleep, he was  _ gorgeous. _

Isa insisted he hadn’t had a panic attack. That was a load of bull and they both knew it--Lea had had his fair share of panic attacks over the years, he knew what they looked like. But Isa was insisting that it wasn’t, and Lea wouldn’t argue with him.

Too much, anyway. Isa was just so  _ vulnerable, _ and it set off all kinds of protective instincts in Lea. And that text he’d gotten, that he’d seemed so shaken by…

Isa stirred, either the time or Lea’s focused attention waking him from his sleep. Lea quickly looked away, busying himself picking out clothes for the day. Anything, just to keep Isa from realizing how intently he’d been staring.

Fortunately, Isa didn’t seem to notice. He glanced at his phone for the time, breath catching in a way that might have been a hiccup or might have been something worse. Lea tried not to listen _ to _ o hard as Isa sat up and reached for clothes he’d laid on the desk without getting out from under the covers. Unbidden, the curiosity rose in Lea’s mind as to whether Isa was naked under them.

He couldn’t help paying attention after that. Isa dressed under the covers, but sweatpants were tossed aside a minute later. So, not naked. Lea tried not to be disappointed by that.

_ Okay, _ he told himself,  _ that’s enough. _

He was stressed. He had to be, to be fixating on his roommate like this. But the way Isa had looked yesterday, the way he looked when he was asleep…

“I’m going to take a shower,” Lea said. “Meet you at breakfast?”

“You don’t have to eat with me,” Isa said. “I can feed myself.”

There was something in his voice that wasn’t there the day before. Something defiant, and angry, and so very afraid.

He really needed to stop profiling people. It was a long habit, one he’d had and honed since he was a kid. It had only gotten worse over the years, as more and more people started trying to hide things from him.

Isa, he was starting to realize, was hiding a  _ lot _ of things.

“You’re my roommate,” Lea said, looking over at the boy, studying him closely. “Roommates are supposed to get along, right?”

Isa didn’t look happy with that answer, not remotely, but Lea couldn’t figure out what part of it was so offensive to him.

“I just meant,” Lea said. He could feel his smile slipping, despite his best efforts. “I--I want to be friends.”

Isa looked to be studying him as closely as he was Isa. “Why?”

“What do you mean,  _ why? _ ” He really didn’t understand what had changed overnight. Yesterday Isa had been so normal, so willing to let Lea help (and holy  _ God _ had that done a lot to contribute to the obsession that had spawned overnight). “I like having friends, that’s all. And you seem pretty cool.”

Isa looked away, and Lea saw where his eyes were going.

His phone. The first thing Isa had done when he woke up was look at his phone.

His fingers itched, all of a sudden. What was on that phone? If he grabbed it right now, what would he see?

~

The ringtone didn’t work overnight.

Isa had woken up, and the LED notification light on their phone had been going off. They hadn’t had a choice. There could have been a thousand important,  _ valuable _ things behind that notification light. Instead, it had been a message from him.

_ Call me. _

The first thing they’d done when he’d gotten out had been to put his phone number in their contact list. If they tried to block it, he’d find out and get a new one. If they changed their number, he’d get it again. The only thing they could do was to put his number in their contacts, and immediately set up a ringtone that would alert them not to answer it.

_ Call me. _

And there, as they were trying to fight off the deep-seated need to  _ obey, _ was Lea.

They’d let him feed them yesterday, let him decide what they ate and use their meal plan to pay for it. He could have done anything with that power. If they gave it to him again, he  _ would _ do anything. He’d shape them into something belonging to him, just like before, and they’d never be able to stop it.

“I’ll--just go to breakfast myself, then?” Lea said.

“Yeah,” they said, their eyes still on the phone.

They couldn’t do it. They couldn’t  _ disappoint _ him. They were already in too deep. “I’ll see you later,” they said, lamely.

Silence. Then, “Did I do something wrong?”

Lea sounded lost, the same way they felt. It twisted something in their chest to hear it. “I--no,” they said. “I just--I--”

They’d told him they hadn’t had a panic attack. But they were on the verge of one now.

“I need a shower too,” they blurted out. They couldn’t look at him, they could barely  _ breathe _ thinking of the message they still hadn’t deleted and how they’d have to answer it.

This was supposed to be over, they thought desperately. They’d had eight years to get over this, to get over the horrible cloying need that had followed their every move, to learn to make decisions for themself and  _ fuck _ anyone who told them to do something they didn’t want to. And one text message had them brought back to day one, to being ten years old with their face cut open and  _ I’m sorry, please, I didn’t mean it-- _

“Isa, you told me not to touch you, but if you don’t snap out of it soon I’m gonna have to.”

They cringed away from the voice. “I’m okay,” they insisted blindly, desperately. They dragged themself to their feet, opening the message and deleting it without looking at it again. “I need a shower, I’ll see you at breakfast.”

They could feel Lea’s eyes on them, could feel his confusion. They took a deep breath and forced it out slowly.

“You’re already dressed,” Lea reminded them.

“I’m still going to shower.” A cold, stinging shower on full blast until their head stopped spinning.

Lea hesitated. “Okay,” he said at last. “Then I’ll see you at breakfast.”

~

Sure enough, when Lea turned his phone on there were seven voicemails waiting for him. He listened to each of them just long enough to recognize his mom's screaming voice before deleting them one by one.

If he told Isa about his family, he wondered as he finished dressing and slicked his hair into its customary spikes, would Isa reciprocate in kind?

More to the point, did he want to know Isa's secrets if the price was his own?

He didn't think he did. His own secrets were too valuable, too closely guarded. He'd find Isa's out some other way.

His roommate came back from his shower looking considerably the worse for wear. His skin was even paler now, and Lea suspected he'd run the shower cold instead of hot like Lea always did.

“You ready?” Lea asked, instead of the much more invasive series of questions he wanted to ask.

Isa nodded. “Let me get my shoes on,” he said, sitting down and glancing again at his phone.

Lea's eyes followed Isa's. They were starting to do that automatically. So much of what Isa thought and felt was kept locked away, and the only clue Lea had was which direction he was looking.

“You waiting for a text?” Lea asked, as casually as he could.

Isa flinched like he'd been struck. “No,” he said, voice a little too thin to be believed.

“ _ Avoiding _ a text?” Christ, Lea just couldn't stop pushing once he'd started. Isa would punch his lights out if he kept this up, and Lea would deserve it.

“No,” Isa snapped. “Do you want to go to breakfast or not?”

Lea blinked, more surprised that Isa was still offering to go with him than that he'd lashed out like that. “I--yeah, of course.”

What _ was _ Isa hiding? Something that had come in on his phone, it looked like. And not something he'd just deleted outright the way Lea had his mom's voicemails. 

He kept up a stream of chatter as they crossed the road to the Student Union and the multitude of dining options there. Unlike most of the colleges Lea had looked at, this one didn't have any restaurants contracted to provide food in the main dining area. There were cafes scattered around campus--Tim Horton's by the bookstore, Starbucks in the library, a smoothie place down near the science center--but in the dining hall proper, everything was in-house.

Lea looked carefully at Isa, wondering how badly he'd get hit if he offered to pick out Isa's food again. His roommate, though, wasn't hesitating this time. He was headed for the cereal bar, which was where Lea had planned to go originally. Isa, though, might think Lea was stalking him if he did that, so Lea went to get pancakes instead.

God, he was fucked.

~

They were _ fucked. _

Eventually, they'd give in, they'd obey. They knew that already. They'd spent ten years at his beck and call. Ten years where they'd learned that only his will mattered. The eight years that had followed weren't enough, not nearly enough, to teach them different.

The only relief they had was when their phone alerted them, midway through breakfast and Lea's steady stream of idle chatter that they tried very hard not to hang onto too hard, to an email that had been forwarded from their school email. Their first appointment with the school counselor was today, in an hour.

They put the phone away after that, trying to ignore the way Lea's eyes tracked it until it was deep in their pocket where he couldn't see it anymore. Lea was obviously curious, but so far he hadn't asked, and they weren't offering. As long as he didn't ask, they could pretend they were normal, just a normal freshman with a normal roommate.

A normal roommate who talked _ a lot _ , even with his mouth full. Part of them wanted to tell him off for bad table manners, but if he stopped talking, they'd be left alone with their thoughts, and they didn't like where their thoughts were going.

“I'm going to get coffee,” they said abruptly, getting to their feet and grabbing their ID.

Lea looked startled. “Oh-okay.”

They tried not to look around and see if people were watching them. Mostly, they succeeded, and at least the few people they glanced at were wrapped up in their own conversations and didn't look at them.

Not, they reminded themself firmly, that there was anything to look at. The scar was imperceptible at any distance, and they weren't doing anything to attract attention. They were just getting coffee.

Still. They itched with the certainty that there were eyes on them.

It was a relief, in the end, to excuse themself to Lea and go to the Stone Center to see the counselor.

Even turned out to be a good deal older than Isa had pictured, expression a stern combination of no-nonsense and fatherliness. Isa tried not to panic when they saw him, but Even could clearly tell they were nervous.

“I'm glad you came to see me, Isa,” Even said with a gentle smile when they were seated in his office.

He started to close the door, and they jerked like they were going to bolt. “No,” they said immediately, voice strained. “I--please don't close it.”

Even hesitated, but released the door. “I can't stop people hearing with it open,” he reminded them, not taking his seat yet. “My colleagues won't spread anything they hear, but I can't promise the same for your peers.”

The thought of someone hearing them, hearing what they'd have to tell Even, and spreading it around campus made their blood run cold. But the idea of being closed in, alone with him--that was worse.

Even watched him carefully, then took a breath. “If you'd prefer,” he said, “I can see if Aerith is available to see you.”

They shook their head, staring at their hands instead of his face.

Another pause. “We have clinical trainees,” Even suggested. “They don't normally sit in on actual sessions, but I can bring one of them in here, if it would make it easier.”

They were pathetic, they realized glumly. Needing someone else around to make them able to talk to a doctor, when an hour ago all they'd wanted was to talk to him.

“I'm okay,” they muttered. “Close the door.”

Even hesitated, giving them the chance to take it back, but closed the door and settled into his chair. They tried not to notice that he was between them and the door. They tried not to let it make them feel trapped.

“Your parents were very concerned with you going so far away,” Even said. “I've had to remind them that you're a legal adult now, and that they are no longer entitled to your medical information.”

_ Legal adult _ . They knew that. It was something they'd fought against tooth and nail, becoming a  _ legal adult. _

“He texted me,” they muttered, scratching their arm restlessly. “Twice. Yesterday, and while I was sleeping.”

Even's eyebrows snapped together. “I was told that as a condition of his parole he wasn't to contact you.”

“He's _ not _ ,” they growled. “But he does anyway, and no one wants me to go to the cops about it.”

A pause. Then, “Do _ you _ want to go to the police?”

Isa stared at the ground, feeling five years old again. “Yes,” they said at last, but it didn't sound convincing even to them.

Even made a note on his board. “Why don't you, then?”

Isa blinked hard to fight the threatening tears. “I can't.”

“Why not, Isa?”

“Because he told me not to.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I try not to clog things up with lengthy author's notes, but I want to be clear about a few things regarding the way I write shippy fics. These contain implicit spoilers for the fic, so you can choose not to read them if you want to go in blind. But here they are. The last one contains the same triggers that are listed in the fic tags.
> 
> \- Everyone has a history. That history is usually messy as hell. Also, almost no one is a virgin unless they're also asexual or I'm writing middle-grade for some reason.  
> \- I don't do "slow burn." I just don't. The buildup to the relationship, to me, just isn't all that fun. I prefer negotiating the rocky waters that come up when you throw two very different people and their aforementioned history together. Check out my Maze Runner fics Don't and Rehab if you want an example.  
> \- Kink negotiation and aftercare are much more important to me than the actual sex. Also, kinks can happen without sex. Very important to note that.  
> \- Rape and sexual abuse fuck you up for life, and if it happens to a character, they're unlikely to have any kind of enthusiastic sex for a LONG time. I feel it necessary to say this because I actually had people unhappy I didn't have a rape survivor immediately turn around and sleep with his (very recent) boyfriend.
> 
> Please note that that second point does not apply to fics like Collared Moon/Cast Beyond The Moon. While that is billed as AkuSai, it is a political drama first and a romance second. If you want to see how I handle such things, my Maze Runner fic Built To Fall Apart is a good example (murder mystery, not political drama, but same basic model).
> 
> I say this now so that no one goes into this fic with expectations that will only be cheerfully demolished later on. All the warnings in the tags still apply, and if my plan for this fic goes through, we will not actually cross the line into any archive warnings on-screen, but we will get close enough (and they will come up in flashbacks enough) that I would not be comfortable tagging the fic as though they don't apply at all.
> 
> On with the fic.

Four years of boarding school had taught Lea a lot about roommates. And the most important lesson had been that everyone was online--and any secrets you wanted to learn were readily available with a little patience and some Google-fu.

Except Isa.

Lea had the guy's last name and face, it shouldn't have been hard to find him. There couldn't be that many people named Isa Sorensen in the world, right?

Well, there weren't. But _ this _ Isa Sorensen wasn't online _ at all. _

Oh, Lea found the usual. Yearbook entries, the like. Turned out the varsity jacket was for karate, of all things, and Lea found himself wondering what kind of dojo had _ varsity jackets. _ But there Isa was, in one of the few photos Lea could find of him, standing aloof and apart from his team. He was frowning so deep in the picture there were lines all along his face, and he'd positioned himself so that although the sensei could put a hand on his shoulder, he was out of arm's reach for his peers. Lea stared at that pose and wondered how a third degree black belt felt so vulnerable as to stand where no one could touch him.

But as to anything that might tell Lea what kind of _ person _ Isa was, there was nothing. No Facebook profile. No Twitter. Not even an Instagram.

The hell kind of teenager didn't have _ one _ social media profile?

It occurred to him, a good half hour into paging through other Isa Sorensen’s Flickr and Pinterest accounts, that he was turning into a stalker.

He didn’t have time to close out of the window before the door opened.

Lea slammed his laptop shut, realizing belatedly how guilty he looked doing that.  Although, maybe he  _ should _ be guilty. He’d been sneaking around trying to find the skeletons in Isa’s closet, knowing full well Isa didn’t want him near them.

“We should trade phone numbers,” Lea blurted when he saw Isa’s face.

Isa startled. He hadn’t seemed to notice Lea there, not yet. His hand was scratching at his forehead again, lightly--he’d done that yesterday; did he have a bug bite, or was it just a nervous habit?--but he dropped it when he saw Lea looking.

“Phone numbers?” he repeated.

The acid from earlier was back, the defiance and defensiveness, the armored shell wrapped around what Lea had gotten glimpses of in the Student Union and that morning. He tried not to think too hard about how much he deserved that acid, right now. He deserved worse than that--if Isa wanted to punch him, he’d take it.

But Isa didn’t punch him. He just glared at him, daring Lea to keep going with his thought.

Lea took the dare.

“Yeah,” Lea said like nothing was weird about the whole thing. “So if one of us gets locked out, we can call the other one to let us in.”

Isa didn’t look remotely appeased, and Lea had to wonder what he’d done wrong  _ this _ time. “I mean,” Lea said with a forced laugh, “unless you  _ want _ to pay the campus police to let you in.”

Isa tugged his phone out of his pocket, looking resigned. “Okay,” he said. “What’s your number?”

Lea couldn’t help being disappointed that Isa hadn’t handed over his phone. There went  _ that _ attempt to sneak a peek and see who might be attached to that innocent-sounding series of chimes.

Isa sent off a text when Lea was done, and Lea took out his phone when it buzzed.  _ Isa Sorensen, _ the text said. Lea absently noted he’d spelled it right in his Google searches before adding him to his contact list.

“You have a Facebook?” he asked.

Okay. So that wasn’t subtle. From the look on Isa’s face, he could guess that Lea had been looking for just that. “No,” he said shortly.

“Serious?” Lea asked. “I mean, I just…”

He trailed off. The look on Isa’s face said there wasn’t a good enough reason in the world for him to finish that sentence.

He tucked his hands behind his head. “Yeah,” he said. “I don’t either. I mean, I  _ have _ one. But I haven’t posted anything on it since junior year prom.”

Isa shrugged, shoving the phone back in his pocket. “I never made one,” he said flatly.

There was something there, in his voice, something Lea  _ really _ wanted to explore further. But he’d pushed far enough. Whatever trust Isa might have given him yesterday, that was long gone. It surprised him how much it hurt to lose it.

“Lunch?” he asked helplessly.

“I’m not hungry,” Isa said. There was something back in his voice, something that wasn’t quite annoyance but was defensive enough to make Lea back off. The defensiveness only got worse when Isa went on, “And you don’t need to babysit me all the time. I’m eighteen, I can handle myself.”

It occurred to Lea, for the first time, that the defensiveness might not have anything to do with him at all.

“What’s going on?” Lea asked, quieter, more subdued. It was all he could do not to reach out and put a hand on Isa, but he’d promised not to touch him. (Not until Isa said he could.) “Why are you so upset today?”

“I’m not upset,” Isa snapped. “I just want you to  _ leave me alone. _ ”

~

_ Call me. _

The need was building, the horrible cloying need to  _ obey _ that they’d been fighting since they saw the message this morning. Eight years they’d lived without him, and the second he was back in their life they were back on their knees for him.

It was some kind of miracle that when they dialed, it wasn’t his number.

“Isa?”

They sank against the wall of their room. Lea had gone on ahead to lunch, and they were trying to pretend they wouldn’t be back at his side in half an hour begging forgiveness for not going with him. They hated that feeling, they hated what they’d become.

They hated how much that part of them liked it.

“Terra,” they said quietly. “Yeah, um--it’s me.”

“Isa.” There was a smile in the older boy’s voice, just for the moment. “Hey. How’re you doing? How’s your roommate, is he nice? It is a he, right?”

They closed their eyes, letting his voice--deep, comforting, hurried but relaxing--wash over them. It soothed some of the need in their chest.

“It’s a he,” they said. “His name’s Lea. He’s--he’s at the dining hall right now.”

“Yeah?” Terra was frowning now, they could  _ just _ hear it if they strained their ears. “You going to join him?”

“Y-yes,” they said.

Terra heard the hesitation, and of all people he knew what was behind it. “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”

“I want to,” they said immediately. It was even true--they wanted to be friends with Lea. They just didn’t trust him. They didn’t trust much of anyone.

They weren’t even sure they trusted Terra.

“Then go,” Terra said. They didn’t have to try to hear the disappointment in his voice anymore, and it was like a blow. “Isa, why are you calling me?”

They opened their mouth to say it, but all that came out was, “I’m sorry.”

“Isa.” Terra sounded really sad now. “You need to--I’m not good for you, Isa.”

“He told me to call him.” They rocked forward onto their knees, their free hand pressed to the ground. “He told me to--Terra--”

“Isa,” Terra said.

They fell silent.

“I can’t,” Terra said. “Isa, you know I can’t.”

“You can,” they insisted. “You can. Just say it.”

“I  _ can’t, _ ” Terra repeated. “Isa, don’t make me do this.”

“Please,” they whispered.

They hated themself for saying it. They hated the silence that followed. They hated knowing that on the other end of the line, Terra was fighting himself for them. They hated putting him in that position.

“Isa,” Terra said at last. “Don’t call him.”

They let out the breath they’d been holding.

“But Isa?”

He paused, just long enough to know they were listening.

“Don’t call me again either.”

They swallowed. “O-okay,” they whispered, rubbing their eyes, feeling the barely-raised skin that was all that was left of their scar. “I’m sorry.”

“I know,” Terra said softly. “I wish…”

“Don’t,” Isa muttered, scrubbing at their eyes. “I won’t call you again, just--just don’t.”

Silence. Just long enough for them to hear the sorrow when he said, “Okay.”

They hung up without waiting for an answer.

They didn’t have to call him. They weren’t  _ supposed _ to call him. Even had asked if they wanted to, but this was better.

Now they could go meet Lea.

~

Lea's stepsister's boyfriend was the most obnoxious person Lea had ever managed not to get away from.

Oh, he knew how to manage Lumaria. Wasn't that hard, if you knew the trick to it. Lumaria had a pathological need to be _ liked _ . If he knew you didn't like him, he'd be up your ass trying to make you. But once he thought you _ did _ like him, you became a side character in the epic story that he thought was his life.

He and Arlene were _ made _ for each other. And no one else. Ever.

Unfortunately, unlike Arlene, who'd gone off to do something her dad would approve of, Lumaria had followed Lea here.

And this time, he'd brought backup.

“This is Rould,” he said, gesturing to the blond beside him. “Rould, my future brother-in-law, Lea.”

“Don't get your hopes up,” Lea said. “By the time you graduate, my mom will be divorced.”

It was a vain hope, but if worst came to worst, he was disinheriting himself.

Lumaria, though, laughed like it was the funniest joke he'd ever heard. “You can see why Arlene likes him,” he told Rould, who had a look Lea knew well--the look of someone who'd gotten stuck with Lumaria long enough to regret it. “Where's your roommate, Lea?” Lumaria asked, turning back to him without a break. “I saw him in the hall earlier--the little blue haired boy, right?”

“Him?” Rould asked, suddenly interested. “He's your roommate?”

Lea nodded, feeling oddly defensive. “His name's Isa,” he said. “Why?”

Rould shrugged, brushing a hand over a goatee that was more impressive than a freshman's had any right to be. “I ran into him moving in,” he said. “He was carrying a sketchbook. He got _ very _ upset when I asked to look at it.”

Lea couldn't help the irrational protectiveness that surged in him when Rould said that, like he had some right to Isa's art. He tried not to remember that an hour ago, he'd been diligently poking through things that were much more private than a sketchbook. Knowing things was a survival skill for him; what was Rould's excuse?

“Yeah,” was all he said. “He doesn't like people looking in there.”

“Come on,” Rould said urgently, eyes alight. “You must have taken a look, what does he draw?”

Lea shrugged, and his eyes caught a flash of blue at the entryway to the dining hall. He looked over and waved when he saw Isa, but his grin faltered when the boy took one look at his company and looked for somewhere else to sit.

“I'll be right back,” he promised absently, more for Rould's sake than Lumaria's, and got up and jogged over to Isa. “Hey,” he said with a bright smile. “Thought you weren't hungry.”

Isa seemed to have gotten a hold of whatever had been eating at him all morning. “I lied,” he said flatly, eyeing the other boys. “Who are they?”

Lea jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “The one with pink hair is Lumaria, my stepsister's boyfriend. The blond is Rould. I just met him.” He studied Isa's expression for a moment and said, “If you don't want them around we can go somewhere else.” Shaking Lumaria was always a trick, but he'd manage if Isa wanted it.

Isa looked for a moment like he'd take the offer, or like he'd withdraw even from Lea. Lea was steeling himself against the pain of it when Isa squared his shoulders and shook his head. “No,” he said. “I--we can talk to them.”

Lea smiled, relieved to see Isa acting like the snarky shit he'd met yesterday and not the scared little thing who'd greeted him this morning. “Okay,” he said, about to sling an arm around Isa's shoulders before remembering he didn't like being touched. “Let's go.”

~

The strangers had watched the entire encounter, completely unsubtle about it. Isa couldn't help wondering if they'd been among the onlookers yesterday, when they'd had their panic attack in this same dining hall. They recognized the blond Lea had called Rould, but they didn't remember from where.

Lea stuck to them as they got their food, looking ready to catch them if they collapsed. They resented the implication that they couldn't handle themself, and steadfastly ignored the voice in the back of their head reminding them that according to their phone records, they _ couldn't. _

“So much for not hungry,” Lea teased them as they loaded their tray with a chili dog, tater tots, and the biggest soda the dining hall had.

“I told you, I lied.” The teasing was uncomfortable, but they were perfectly willing to fight fire with fire. “I just wanted you to go away.”

“Ouch,” Lea protested, putting a hand over his heart. “That hurts, Isa.”

“You're a big boy, you can handle it.” They took their tray back to the table Lea had claimed, forcing their steps not to falter when the boys turned to look at them.

“You're Isa,” the blond--Lea had called him Rould--said with a smile and the kind of posh British accent Isa only heard on reruns of classic _ Doctor Who _ . “Good to meet you. Rould Hartley.”

“Lumaria Wheatley,” the other boy said. He held out a hand, which Isa neatly avoided taking by busying themself setting out their food. “I'm a friend of Lea's from high school.”

Judging from the look on Lea's face, Isa was willing to bet that Lumaria was stretching the definition of “friend” to the breaking point. That made them feel better about Lea, at least. They didn't like Lumaria, and how his eyes followed them when they picked up their fork to eat their tater tots.

“Lumaria is my roommate,” Rould said. “And it turns out he's got a bit of flair for the dramatic--he's helping me put together a little ‘welcome to university’ get-together tomorrow night, to celebrate the last day of summer.”

“It was Rould's idea,” Lumaria said, with the air of someone who took full credit but wanted to look humble while doing it. Isa liked him even less. “He's a bit of a card shark, and it started with his suggestion we run a poker night. Well, I poked around, and found a few loopholes that will get us a night of gambling and drinking.”

The last word sent Isa's hackles up on the back of their neck.

“We'd _ love _ for you to come,” Lumaria went on enthusiastically. “It'll be a blast. The whole floor is going to be there.”

That did it. The whole floor--ten or twelve rowdy freshmen with something to prove, all crowding around and drinking and--

“Pass,” Isa said, taking a bite of their hot dog.

Lumaria looked like a cat who'd just been sprayed with water. “ _ Pass? _ ” he repeated indignantly.

“A shame,” Rould said. “I imagine you're quite a fun drunk.”

The grin he gave them was too close to a come on, and they had to fight not to shrink into themself. “Pass,” they repeated firmly.

“You can't pass,” Lumaria insisted. “What are you going to do if you're not there and everyone else is?”

“Lu,” Lea said wearily.

“Talk to him,” Lumaria said, rounding on Lea. “Convince him. It won't be a party without _ everyone _ there, Lea, you have to--”

Isa's head lifted, eyes narrowing as they watched Lea. He looked between his sister's boyfriend and his roommate, expression unreadable. Isa didn't trust that expression.

Rould spoke before Lea could. “I'm sure Isa will come to the next gathering,” he said, putting a hand on his roommate's shoulder. “Come on, Lumaria, we still have to convince Myde.”

Lumaria looked ready to spit fire if it got Isa to agree to come play poker, but he let himself be led away, glancing over his shoulder at Isa and Lea. Isa stared at Lea until he looked back, then immediately found their plate more interesting.

“You know,” Lea said, “if you show up long enough for him to see you there, he won't notice if you leave.”

Isa snorted. “Taking his side?” they asked acidly.

“Not exactly,” Lea said, finally taking the seat across from them and picking up what was left of his burger. “Lumaria--he's a terrier, but he's a distractable one. If he thinks he has what he wants, he'll get bored and go get something else.”

They glared at their tots. “I'm not giving him what he wants,” they muttered.

“Okay,” Lea said. He sounded reluctant, like he would've loved to push them into it. But he didn't.

They made it through the rest of their hot dog before asking, “Are _ you _ going?”

“Me?” Lea looked surprised, then nodded. “I mean, probably. I'll make an appearance, say hello, meet the rest of our floor.” He grinned. “Duck out early to get dinner with my roommate, try to convince him not to hate me for saving my own skin and going to the gathering in the first place.”

It was on the tip of their tongue to say that they wouldn't hate him no matter what he did, but they swallowed it back down. Talking like that was dangerous. Looking at that grin, the grin that made them want him to give it _ to them _ , was more dangerous. Longingly, they thought of calling Terra, explaining and getting his help--but he'd told them not to, and even if they disobeyed, it would only make him sad.

“I don't hate you,” they muttered.

Lea's grin widened.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all who have commented and left kudos. I don't reply to them anymore--I find that whatever I say comes off either as justifying myself or spoiling the fic, and I hate doing both. Once the fic is complete I may reply to things, but not until then. Just rest assured it warms my heart to see people react to my writing.

Much like Isa, Lea didn't use social media. He knew it well enough to know how easily people would be able to track down his secrets if he posted them online. He did _ have _ a Facebook, but that was only so he could keep tabs on people. Which, he continually insisted to the little voice in his head, was _ not _ the same as stalking them. The information was freely posted for anyone to see. If they didn't want him looking, they shouldn't have accepted his friend request.

Idly, he wondered if Isa would accept his friend request if he ever made a Facebook.

But, he reminded himself, Isa didn't have a Facebook for the same reason Lea didn't post to his. Even if he _ did _ make a Facebook, even if he accepted Lea's friend request, he'd never post anything that would tell Lea anything important.

He drummed his fingers on the desk, thinking hard and trying to think about anything but Isa.

Isa's spine had gotten stiffer since his appointment with the counselor, and the fragile defensiveness had faded into something more solid. Lea had no reason to still feel so protective of him, especially when Isa clearly didn't want to be protected. But he did. He couldn't help it, couldn't stop it happening.

It would help if Isa didn't seem so openly afraid, when he thought no one would notice him showing it. It would help if he didn't guard his secrets so jealously, like they might break from Lea touching them too hard. It would help, Lea admitted to himself in the privacy of his own head, if he wasn't so goddamn _ pretty _ .

His Facebook dinged as another post made it to his wall, something more important than his mom's first date with her husband since Lea got home for the summer. He glanced at it, prepared to ignore it the way he had that--and then stopped, fingers frozen on the mouse.

_ Someone  _ moved fast.

The door opened. For once, Lea didn't bother to cover his screen. He had nothing to hide.

“So,” he said instead, turning around in his chair and propping his arms on the back. “You change your mind about the party tonight?”

Isa startled. Every time he came into the room, he seemed surprised to find Lea still there. His face quickly morphed into a mulish expression that Lea knew well, having seen it in the mirror enough times. “No.”

“Come on,” Lea pleaded. “He'll never leave you alone if he thinks you hate him.”

“I  _ do _ hate him,” Isa muttered, glaring at his sketchbook. “He's an asshole. Thinks not only does the world revolve around him, he _ makes  _ it revolve.”

Well, he wasn't wrong. “Yeah,” Lea said, “but Rould seems cool. And I've seen some of the other guys around the building--they're cool too. Come on,” he said, fighting the urge to put on a pout. “I don't want to go alone.”

“Then don't go,” Isa snapped.

He was tense. Lea could see that. Ready to snap and lash out, and if Lea kept pushing it would be his own damn fault. He sighed, slumping in his chair, the picture of disappointment. “Okay,” he muttered.

He really didn't think it would work. But Isa sighed too. “One hour,” he said. “We see, we get seen, we come back here.”

Lea perked up, and tried not to feel too accomplished at the small, grudging smile that spread over Isa's face when he did. He looked pleased with himself. Lea tried not to feel the same.

~

They were in too deep.

He hadn't texted them again after the order to call him. They were glad for that, they told themself. He was leaving them alone, like he was supposed to all along. He wasn't driving them to their knees with his demands, his orders.

_ Fingers running through their hair, a deep voice murmuring praise-- _

They hadn't called Terra either, and that was much harder. If they went looking, they'd find out what he was up to. They hoped he'd found someone who wouldn't hurt him (they hoped he was still pining after them). They hoped he was happy (they hoped he missed them).

And now, there was Lea.

They were trying to be strong, to make decisions for themself, but all it had taken from Lea was a pout and some batted eyelashes and they'd caved, done what he wanted to make him happy. And he _ had _ been happy, even though he clearly didn't like Lumaria any more than they did. He was happy, at least, that they were coming with him.

Much to their distress.

They'd opened their mouth to weasel out of going at least five times after they'd agreed, and every time their mouth had closed again with a snap. They tried to pretend they wanted to go, or at least that they were as comfortable as Lea with pacifying Lumaria. It wasn't working very well, and it was all they could do, when Lea pushed open the doors to their common room, not to turn tail and run back to the dorm and stay there.

“You made it!” Lumaria said eagerly, coming over to greet them, holding out his hands. “So glad to see you got the grump to join,” he stage whispered to Lea as he shook hands with his “friend.”

“Isa just didn't want to be alone in the dorm,” Lea said innocently. His arm shifted like he was going to wrap it around Isa's shoulders, but he caught himself before Isa had to step out of reach.

Which they _ would _ have, they insisted to themself. They didn't want him to touch them.

Lumaria's pride having been appeased by Isa's appearance, he hooked an arm around Lea's and led him back toward the tables along one wall, which were laden with bar snacks and alcohol. Isa lingered, wondering if they'd been seen long enough for them to get away with going back to the dorm.

There were only about ten boys on their floor, but the room felt crowded. One of the boys had taken over the playlist, and his tastes didn't match Isa's at all, but they weren't going to go argue with him. They sighed, settling back against the wall and picking at all that was left of their scar. Lea would come back eventually, would detach himself from Lumaria and remember they were there and come get them to go back to the dorm.

Not that they _ needed _ him to take them back to the dorm. They were eighteen, they could make that decision for themself.

When the interruption finally pulled them out of their head, it wasn't Lea. It was the blond, Rould.

“Horrible music, isn't it?” the Brit said cheerfully, offering Isa a bottle of beer that they pointedly ignored. He shrugged and took a sip of whatever he was drinking, turning to lean against the wall next to them. “Myde insisted he could handle the soundtrack,” Rould said, nodding to the mulletted boy manning the iPod. “But his tastes appear to be wildly different from anything I consider ‘music.’”

They shrugged, tucking their hands under their arms to avoid him trying to touch them. “It's annoying,” they admitted, and then, like they'd forgotten how to censor themself as soon as Lea batted his eyes at them, they asked, “Why are you talking to me?”

Rould raised his eyebrows. “I wanted to talk to someone interesting,” he said innocently. “You're the most interesting person here.”

They tensed. “No,” they said, eyes seeking out Lea automatically. He was taking a drink from Lumaria, glancing around. They tried to pretend he was looking for them, and immediately tried to pretend he wasn’t. “I'm not,” they insisted to Rould.

“Of course you are,” Rould said mildly. “For one, no one else here has a scar like yours.”

Isa went rigid. “I don't have a scar,” they said, an automatic denial. How had Rould seen it? Lea hadn't even seen it, and he'd been looking much closer than anyone else.

“You see, that's what I find so interesting,” Rould said. “That you hide it so well and insist so thoroughly it's not there at all.”

They shook their head, staring at Lea like they could telepathically summon him to rescue them. Lea, however, had struck up a conversation with another boy Isa barely recognized and didn't look their way.

Rould lowered his voice until he had to lean in and Isa had to fight not to pull away. “I have to ask--self inflicted?”

Isa flinched so violently their shoulder cracked against the wall behind them. They hissed in pain, pulling away from both the wall and the blond.

Rould's eyes widened and he lifted his hands, still holding the beers. “I'm sorry,” he said. “That was rude of me, I shouldn't have asked--are you alright?”

They shook their head, glaring at the ground. Lea, at last, had heard the commotion and was coming over. They tried not to be so pathetically grateful for that, tried to ignore the fact that everyone else in the room was also looking their way.

“Everything okay, Isa?” Lea asked.

They fought every instinct in their body telling them to go into his arms, let him protect them. Protection, they had to remind themself, only meant that the protector was allowed to hurt them.

“I'm afraid I overstepped my bounds,” Rould admitted. “I've made your friend terribly uncomfortable, and I must apologise.”

Isa stared at the ground, waiting for Lea to tell them to accept the apology,  _ be polite, Isa, where are your manners, don't make me take you home-- _

“Isa?” Lea asked instead. “Are you okay?”

Not back there. Not a pet, not hiding behind their master's legs. They shook themself out of the shock and nodded. “I'm fine.”

Lea grinned at them. “I was going over to the couches,” he said, nodding to the corner he meant. “Just to sit down for a while. You want to?”

They hated how eager their nod was, how quickly they followed after him and even untucked their hands from under their arms.

“I'm sorry,” Rould called after them. They didn't answer, didn't look back.

They sat down beside Lea, legs curled up under them and resisting the urge to lean into him, to bury their face in his shoulder and pretend nothing could ever hurt them. The only thing that stopped them was the knowledge that it was a lie--that, in fact, doing that only meant _ Lea _ could hurt them, gave him the right to do it.

“You okay?” Lea asked quietly. “Was he harassing you?”

They turned their head enough to look him in the eye. They'd avoided eye contact most of their life, but unlike therapists thought, it wasn't all out of fear. If they met someone's eyes, the other person would have a clear view of their scar. 

_ Look where that got me _ , they thought bitterly.  _ I never looked Rould in the eye, and he still saw it. _

“Isa?” Lea asked. He reached for them before catching himself. “You want a drink?”

They hunched their shoulders. “I don't drink,” they muttered.

Lea hesitated. “I have a stash of Coke in our room,” he offered.

They hesitated. They didn't like owing people, they especially didn't want to owe _ Lea _ . But they were thirsty, and a drink would help settle their nerves. They nodded.

“Be right back,” Lea promised, hopping to his feet.

They sat still, struggling not to shrink from the eyes they could feel or imagine on them. They managed to keep their shoulders straight, but their eyes were locked on the ground until someone came to sit by them.

“Yo.” It was the blond with the mullet who'd put on the awful dance music. They glared at him, but he didn't take the hint. “Fun night, huh?” he said with a grin. “Rould was planning poker, until everyone realized he'd win every hand. He's got a face that's made to bluff.”

They shrugged, tight-lipped, saying nothing. They wanted him to leave, but giving orders was well beyond their abilities. They wished Lea hadn't left them.

“You're not drinking,” the boy said. “You want something? I'll get you something.”

Their mouth twisted into a scowl. “Why does everyone at this thing want to get me drunk?” they snapped. 

They'd been too loud. People were looking over. Rould was, at least, looking surprised and a little hurt.

Mullet boy, however, just shrugged. “Just being friendly,” he said. “Figured everyone here would _ want _ to get drunk. Why are you here if you don't?”

“That's my fault.”

Isa looked up gratefully to find Lea offering them a red plastic cup filled with Coke, wearing a bashful grin as he looked at mullet boy.

“I talked Isa into coming,” he said. “Keeping me company. You mind?”

The boy jumped to his feet, apparently totally unoffended by Lea hijacking his spot. “'S cool, man,” he said with a grin as wide as Lea's. “Just trying to keep  _ him  _ company.”

“I've got that covered,” Lea said. “You're Myde, right?”

This prompted a dramatic bow. “The one and only,” mullet boy--Myde--said with a grin. “Lumaria said you're Lea, and the grump--his words, not mine--is Isa.”

~

How many people were going to call Isa “the grump?” Lea wondered. It didn't even fit. Isa was quiet and introverted, but he wasn't moody. At least, not any more than any other eighteen-year-old.

Isa, though, looked humiliated by the term being thrown around. Myde was too focused on Lea to see it, but Lea couldn't have missed it.

“Parties aren't really his thing,” he told Myde. “Mine either, but I put up with them because Lu is a headache when he doesn't get his way.”

Myde lit up, happy to seize on this new line of gossip. “Oh, _ man, _ don't I know it,” he said eagerly. “I told him I didn't play poker and he got this face like I'd just killed his puppy in front of him. What was I supposed to do, keep saying no?”

Lea laughed, but his attention was on Isa. He was drinking his Coke, eyes on the ground, doing a very good impression of not hearing a word they were saying about him. But his knees, which had been pulled to his chest, fell to either side so he was sitting cross-legged. Lea tried not to be too hopeful when the movement pressed Isa's left knee against Lea's leg. His fingers itched to reach out and brush that blue hair away from Isa's forehead, but it wouldn't be welcome and he knew it.

He talked with Myde a while longer, trying to bring Isa into the conversation, but the other boy wouldn't look up from his drink. When the cup was empty, Lea took it from him without invitation or resistance and went to refill it. Isa took the refill silently, without lifting his head.

“You want to go back to the dorm?” Lea asked as quietly as he could without needing to lean into Isa's personal space.

Isa took a shaky breath and shook his head. “Only if you do,” he said quietly. “Don't leave early for me.”

Lea wanted to say he _ would _ leave early for Isa, would take him away from any place that made him feel unsafe. But Isa's chin was set in an expression Lea had already learned to recognize in him. Whatever reason Isa had for insisting on this, it wouldn't help to argue back.

He relaxed instead, lifting his beer to his lips and taking a long drink. When Isa got out of this mood, Lea would ask again if he wanted to go back.

He was acting, he realized with a jolt, like Isa was his to take care of at all. Isa wasn't his, had never indicated that he _ wanted _ to be his. He'd just been there, vulnerable, scared to tell people off on his own behalf, suffering through panic attacks like he didn't deserve any help. It had set off all kinds of instincts in Lea, but he had to pull back. Isa had made clear enough that he didn't want someone like Lea.

_ Even if _ , said the little voice at the back of his head, _ he needs one. _

He was shaken out of his thoughts by the arrival of Lumaria, with a boy at his side who clearly, like Isa, had done his best to wriggle out of being here at all.

“Lea,” Lumaria said. Out of the corner of his eye, Lea noticed Isa lifting his head, almost defiant as he met their host’s eyes. “I saw you met Myde--great guy, but I'll admit, not a lot going on upstairs--but Ienzo here said he hadn't met you. Ienzo,” he said, turning to the boy, “this is Lea, a friend of mine from high school, and his roommate Isa.”

Ienzo offered Isa a smile, and Lea tried not to feel too proud that Isa smiled back, even if it was hesitant.

“Lumaria says you’re an artist,” Ienzo said, quiet and polite.

The smile disappeared as though it had never been. Lea tried not to feel too hurt that as Isa stiffened, he pulled his knee off Lea’s leg.

“Who told Lumaria that?” Isa said. He didn’t look at Lea, but the accusation was clear.

“Rould,” Lea said before Lumaria could. “He told me when he met me, he ran into you carrying your sketchbook. He wanted to know what was in it.”

Isa glowered at the floor, though he did reluctantly let his knee fall back to where it had been. “What’s so exciting about a fucking sketchbook?” he muttered. The swear sounded foreign in his mouth. “It’s not like I’m any good anyway.”

“I’m sure you’re better than you think you are,” Ienzo offered. “Take Myde. For his terrible taste in music, he’s quite the guitarist--but he swears he’s all thumbs. You’re your own worst critic.”

Isa scratched at his forehead while Lea struggled with the desire to put a protective arm around him. Finally he shrugged. “You can’t see,” he said flatly. “I don’t show people.”

Ienzo smiled, like he was amused instead of offended. Lea was relieved to see that expression; enough people were prying into Isa’s secrets.

Starting, he admitted guiltily, with him.

“I won’t ask to see, then,” Ienzo said. “But--do you paint? I tried to take it up as a junior. I have all my paints laying around, and if someone doesn’t use them soon they’ll all be dried up.”

Isa blinked, frowned, scratched again before dropping his hand to his lap. “You’re offering them to me?” he asked suspiciously.

“If you want them,” Ienzo said. “They’re supposed to be good--Blick?”

Isa stared at him. “You’re  _ offering _ them to me?” he asked, like he didn’t believe a word of it. “What do you want for them?”

“Not having to throw them away isn’t enough?” Ienzo shrugged. “You can buy them, if it makes you feel better, but honestly I’ll give them away to anyone who will use them.”

Lea would have taken the free offer, but Isa looked reassured by the offer. “I’ll buy them,” he said.

Lumaria had had enough of talking business--or, more accurately, people not talking to  _ him. _ He flopped onto the couch on Isa’s other side, beckoning Ienzo to sit down beside him. Lea was probably the only one who noticed Isa’s spine going so rigid he might snap if someone touched him too hard. Lumaria certainly didn’t notice, or if he did he didn’t care. He flung his arm over the back of the couch. Isa shrank. Lea tried not to read into it that Isa shrank towards him; he was the only option other than getting up.

“You sure you don’t want to go back to the dorm?” Lea asked quietly, as Ienzo perched on the arm of the couch on his other side.

Isa shrugged one shoulder. “I haven’t finished my Coke,” he answered just as quietly.

Lea resisted the urge to ruffle his hair. “Okay,” he said with a grin. “You okay if I get another drink?”

Isa shrugged. “You don’t need my permission.”

There was something in his voice that Lea couldn’t quite identify, but he wouldn’t question it. He knew better than to force his affections on someone. It had ruined enough friendships for him.

He got to his feet and went to the buffet tables along the wall. Isa hadn't eaten all night, he realized as he looked over the bowls of pretzels and microwave popcorn. 

He shouldn't. He really shouldn't. But his roommate was so damn _ skinny. _

_ He'd _ eat it, he told himself virtuously, even if Isa didn't.

He returned a minute later with a plastic cup of beer and a plastic bowl of pretzels. He plopped down on the couch (Ienzo had politely left his seat open) and offered Isa the bowl.

Isa glanced at the food and shook his head. “I'm not hungry,” he muttered.

Lea tried not to be disappointed. He hadn't asked, he reminded himself. Isa was under no obligation to take the offer. He started munching himself, sipping his beer.

Lumaria launched into a discussion of the classes they were all taking, punctuated throughout by the other boys coming over to say hello. Upperclassmen from other floors and freshmen from other dorms came in and out as the night went on. 

And little by little, Isa shrank.

Lea was watching him as closely as he could get away with, worried when Isa's knees came back up to his chest. He wanted to put an arm around him protectively, but he'd agreed not to touch him.

Until, around midnight, Isa leaned over until his shoulder was pressed against Lea's.

Lea startled.

“Sorry,” Isa muttered, starting to sit up again.

“No, it's okay,” Lea assured him. “Do--can I put my arm around you?”

Isa hesitated. “I'm just tired,” he said defensively. “I'm not--scared, or anything.”

Scared wasn't the word Lea had been going to use.  _ Overwhelmed _ , maybe, but not scared. 

“I'm tired too,” he assured Isa in a low voice. “Can I?”

Isa chewed his lip, staring at Lumaria across the room, who was once again trying to pull the attention onto him. Finally, he nodded.

Lea smiled and wrapped an arm around Isa, tugging him close.

“We'll go back to the dorm soon,” he promised.

“I'm fine,” Isa said again, still defensive and tensing up under Lea's arm.

“So am I,” Lea said. “But we're both tired. We'll go as soon as I finish my beer.”

Against his expectations, Isa relaxed.

Lea took his time with his last drink, and finally they got up to leave. Isa pulled out of reach as soon as they were out of sight, and Lea dropped his arm with no small amount of reluctance.

“So,” he said. “You enjoy yourself?”

Isa shrugged, face impassive. Whatever openness, whatever vulnerability had made him lean into Lea a minute ago, it was gone.

Lea tried to pretend he didn’t miss it.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who's left comments on this. I love hearing from you.

They had a text waiting when they woke up. They knew they shouldn't, they knew it would be him (it was always him anymore), but they looked.

He'd sent them a picture of themself, curled up on the couch last night, half-asleep on Lea’s shoulder.  _ You cut your hair _ , the text said.

They threw the phone across the room like it was a spider, scrambling back on the bed until they were pressed against the wall, breathing heavy.

How had he seen? He hadn't been there, how had he gotten that picture?

An image flashed through their head--Lumaria, phone at the ready. He'd been taking pictures for his Facebook profile, he'd said. They'd thought they'd avoided him getting any pictures of them, but…

Had Lumaria put the picture on Facebook? Had _ he _ hacked into that profile--it wasn't beyond his skills--or had he sent Lumaria a friend request that Lumaria, in his vanity, had accepted?

How had he found Lumaria? How did he know who lived on their floor? Rooming wasn't public knowledge--the school had a student-facing directory that would tell you what dorm someone lived in, but this was way beyond that. He'd targeted someone who lived down the hall from them, someone who wouldn't know how dangerous he was.

They pulled their knees to their chest, burying their face in them and dragging their hands through their hair. They had to calm down. He wasn't on campus, he wasn't  _ here _ , he was just manipulating people. He'd done it even from prison, sometimes, when he earned a few hours on the prison computers. 

It was different, somehow, now that there weren't bars between him and them.

“Isa?”

Lea was awake. They opened their mouth to tell him everything was fine, but all that came out was a whimper.

~

The longer Lea knew Isa, the less he thought he really knew him. But some things were starting to make a horrible, twisted kind of sense.

He got to his feet, glancing at the phone Isa had thrown practically at his head. It was intact, which was enough for him to set it aside as irrelevant and focus on Isa instead.

“Isa,” he said again. That noise his roommate had made hadn’t been any kind of okay, so asking if he was okay was stupid and trite and the kind of question Lea made a point not to ask. He crouched next to Isa’s bed instead, looking up at him. “Isa, it’s me. Look at me, please?”

Isa shook his head, quick and jerky. “Go away,” he mumbled into his knees. “I’ll be good, just leave me alone, please.”

_ I’ll be good. _

Lea couldn’t have left him if he tried.

“Can I look at your phone?” he asked. “Can I see what set this off? Would that be okay?”

Isa shook his head again. “No,” he muttered. “Just leave me alone.”

“I can’t,” Lea said. “Isa, you’re freaking me out here, I can’t leave until I know you’re okay.”

“I’m  _ fine. _ ”

“Then look at me.”

It was stupid and reckless and arrogant to throw around orders, but to his surprise Isa obeyed. His eyes were red from the tears that had streaked his face, but he glared at Lea like he was absolutely in control of himself.

“See?” he snapped. “I’m  _ fine. _ Now leave me alone.”

He was so clearly  _ not _ fine that it was all Lea could do not to reach out and pull him into a hug. But he couldn’t push this. Whatever fragile trust had let him put his arm around Isa the night before, it had shattered with the same thing Isa had seen on his phone.

He dropped his hands to his knees and sat back on his heels. “Do you want water?” he asked. “Or--I could delete whatever it is.”

“Don’t  _ touch _ it,” Isa snarled.

“Right,” he said. “Okay. I won’t touch it.” Grasping at straws, he asked, “Do you--have another appointment with the counselor?” If Isa wouldn’t let him help, maybe he’d let a professional.

Isa nodded. “After breakfast.”

“Okay.” He got to his feet slowly. “You want a shower?”

Isa flinched like Lea had grabbed him, shaking his head violently.

“Okay,” Lea said. God, he felt so helpless here. “Do you--can you get dressed? I’ll leave,” he added. “I’ll just--go outside and wait, and then we can go to breakfast together. Okay?”

He could see it on Isa’s face--he wanted, badly, to agree. But whatever had happened, Isa wasn’t going to give in. He almost seemed angry that Lea had asked him to do  _ anything. _

“Go away,” Isa muttered at last, when the mess of emotions fighting for control had settled down to nothing.

He wanted to object. On principle, he wanted to argue that it was his room too, and Isa couldn’t order him around. But if Isa wanted him to leave, he would.

“Okay,” he said. “Just--I’ll be in the common room. Come find me when you’re ready to go to breakfast, okay?”

~

They’d managed to avoid actually  _ speaking _ to Lea after they got him to leave (and why  _ had _ he left? They didn’t have any kind of power to actually  _ make _ him). They just glanced in the common room and caught his eye so he’d know they were gone, then they left.

They were early to their appointment, mostly because they’d skipped breakfast. It left them with a lot of time to just--sit, and fidget, and fight the conflicting impulses running through their head and making their hands twitch toward their phone again and again.

Finally, they took out their phone. They hadn’t deleted the text--they wanted to show Even, they’d never be able to say it aloud--but they managed to skim past it without looking too closely, moving on to looking at the site they wanted to look at.

Lumaria, vain as he was, hadn't made his Facebook private. 

The door to the hall that held the counseling rooms opened as they were trying to find evidence that Lumaria had accepted a contact request from _ him _ , and Even emerged. “Isa,” he said. “You're early. Is everything alright?”

They stood up, opening their texts without looking and shoving the phone at him.

Even took one look at the phone and gestured to the hall. “Let's go inside.

“You said he hadn't contacted you since telling you to call him,” the counselor said as they took their seats and he closed the door behind them. “This is the first time?”

They nodded, staring at their hands morosely. 

“Do you know how he got this photo?”

They nodded again.

“How?”

They licked their lips. “Lumaria,” they said. “This guy on my floor. He hosted the party, he took the picture, he left his Facebook public.”

Even was silent for a moment. “Isa,” he said at last, “I'd like to revisit the issue of reporting him to the police.”

“I can't,” they said again.

“Because he told you not to.”

It wasn't a question, but they nodded. 

Even sighed quietly. “Isa,” he said, “you can't live your life according to his will.”

They stared at the ground, resolutely refusing to answer that. Yes, they could. They _ had _ to.

“Isa…” Even drummed his pen against his clipboard. “I'd like to try something.”

“What?” they mumbled.

“I'd like you to say his name.”

Their blood froze, heart and breath stopping dead. Abruptly, they were so tense they couldn't move. They didn't even notice they were shaking their head.

“Isa,” Even said gently. “Did you read Harry Potter?”

They nodded, flinching.

“Do you remember at the end of the first book, when Harry tries to say--”

“Yes,” they muttered.

“What did Dumbledore say?”

They swallowed. “He said, ‘Fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself.’”

“Yes,” Even said. He tapped his pen against his clipboard again. “I've been going through your previous therapists’ files,” he said. “They report the same thing I noticed in our last session. You never say his name. You only call him ‘he.’ I'd like you to try saying his name.”

They shook their head immediately, insistently.  _ Pets don't say their masters’ names, _ they thought, hating how readily the words came to mind. 

They'd gotten better, they thought morosely as they picked at the peeling rubber of their Converse. “I used to always call him my master,” they muttered.

“Well, we certainly don't want you to do that,” Even said gently.

It was why he was in jail. Logically, they knew that the evidence--in the form of scars and bruises littering their skin and their bones jutting out from their too-thin torso--would have sent him to jail anyway. But it would always be their fault, because right there in the courtroom they'd called him _ my master. _

_ He _ certainly knew it was their fault. They'd hoped at first that it would make him decide they weren't worth pursuing anymore, but clearly that hadn't worked.

“I'm not supposed to call him my uncle,” they muttered. 

“He isn't your uncle,” Even agreed. “Not in any meaningful sense. Why won't you say his name, Isa?”

The rubber was peeling away enough to expose the inner canvas.

Even, it turned out, was good at waiting.

“I'm not allowed,” they muttered at last, when the silence had gotten too much and they couldn't think around it. “He always knows when I break the rules.”

“He can't hurt you, Isa,” Even said.

They glared at their shoe.  _ Shows how much you know. _

~

Isa was avoiding him.

It had been hard to tell at first. Isa had glanced into the common room so Lea would know it was okay to go back and get dressed, but he hadn’t said a word before taking off for another appointment with the counselor. At the time, Lea had wondered if Isa had snuck booze when he wasn’t looking, enough to be hungover this morning. He wondered why it bothered him so much to think that Isa might have done that behind his back.

But no, Isa wasn’t hungover. That much was clear when he saw his roommate coming into the dining hall at the student union. Isa saw Lea, they made eye contact--and then Isa turned around and walked right back out.

Oh yeah. Isa was  _ definitely _ avoiding him.

He should have ignored Isa this morning and checked his phone to find out what had scared him so bad. Then maybe he’d--

Holy  _ shit, _ he needed to stop.

“Okay,” he muttered, scratching at his head and staring at the introductory chapter he’d been assigned to read for Friday. “Isa has secrets. So do I.”

The problem was, Isa’s secrets weren’t safely tucked away where they couldn’t stop him living his life, like Lea’s. They were haunting him, dogging him, chasing him and breaking him every time he thought he was free of them. If someone didn't help him get control of them, they'd eat him alive.

Christ.  _ Lea _ needed to see the counselor, if he was really doing this, really making excuses to meddle in someone's life after what had happened the last time.

Isa wasn't Roxas, though, he reasoned, staring at the blank piece of paper he was supposed to be using to take notes. And speaking of Roxas…

This was _ way _ over the line, but it was still less invasive than letting his mind try to dissect Isa's secrets and plot a way in past his armor. 

He opened up Facebook.

Lea wasn't the kind of person who should be using Facebook at all. He didn't post, and most of the time he didn't even care what people posted. He just liked keeping tabs on people. Especially since he'd seen Roxas’s picture of himself and his new boyfriend.

The latest pictures were no better than what he'd seen before. Roxas was taking selfies on every date he went on with Riku, with an aggression that made Lea think he was trying to get back at him for breaking up with him. That was stupid, of course. The breakup had been mutual. On good days, Lea could even admit it hadn't been anyone's “fault.” They'd just been wrong for each other, in every possible way.

He wondered if Riku was any better for Roxas--or if Roxas was any better for _ Riku. _

He really needed to stop wondering.

Fortunately, aside from the thoroughly boring textbook he wasn't reading anymore, distraction came in the form of Rould taking the seat across from him.

“I hope you don't mind,” he said. “But your roommate is absent, and mine is chewing his nails off worrying about something or other. I hoped for some sane company.”

Lea shrugged, closing the textbook. “Sure,” he said, stretching his arms over his head and yawning. “I should grab some food, though,” he added, glancing at the dinner on Rould’s tray. Some panini and soup, not nearly enough grease for Lea's stomach.

“I'll be here,” Rould promised.

This was wrong. Lea couldn't help thinking that, over and over as he got his food and returned to the table. Isa was his roommate, the person he trusted as far as he ever trusted anyone. He should be eating with Isa.

“What'd you say that upset him so bad anyway?” he asked. “Isa, I mean. Last night.”

“Oh.” Rould looked embarrassed. “I, well. I asked something personal and private.  _ Very _ personal and private.” Awkwardly, he scratched his left forearm through the sleeve of his posh button down shirt.

“Christ,” Lea muttered. “Isa gets upset when you ask to see his  _ drawings _ , Rould. And you asked him…?”

The embarrassment deepened. “Frankly, I don't think I should tell you what exactly I asked him,” Rould admitted. “It was--that private.”

“Jesus, _ really?” _ Lea asked incredulously. “You asked a near stranger something so personal you can't even admit you asked?”

“I realize it was not my finest moment,” Rould said stiffly. “I don't need to be told.”

And Lea didn't need to keep pushing. Rould clearly wasn't going to let slip what the question had been in an effort to defend himself from Lea's accusations, and that had been the real reason he'd been asking, even though he'd never admit it aloud.

Man, Isa deserved so much better than him.

The thought plunged his good mood into something ugly and morose, which Xion used to tease him by saying were one and the same for him.  _ Your face is made for smiling, Lea _ , she used to tell him.  _ When you're unhappy, you just look dead. _

“What's your major, anyway?” he asked Rould.

“Business,” Rould said with distaste. “Not my idea, but my father wouldn't pay for my education if I went for theater like I wanted. Mum made us compromise--I'd try a year of business and if I really hated it Dad would let me go for what I wanted.” He flashed Lea a grin. “Fortunately,  _ I _ decide whether or not I ‘really hate it.’”

Lea grinned back, heart sinking. His story wasn't so different, really. Except that in his case, there was no escape. His parents had to believe he was going for pre-med until he graduated and told them he was going to be a cop.

“What are you going for?” Rould asked. “I assume Isa will be an art major.”

Lea shook his head. “Isa's undecided,” he said.

“Oh, come on.” Rould raised an eyebrow. “You really think he's any less decided than I am?”

Lea snorted as his phone buzzed in his pocket.

He ignored the text as he and Rould finished eating. His mom still texted or called at least once a day, and he'd refused to answer any of them or even let her know he'd gotten them at all. The only other person who might text him was Isa, if he got locked out of their room, and Isa would call him if it was urgent. When the text went successfully ignored, he considered it a crisis averted.

But when he opened the text to delete it, it wasn't his mom. Instead, an unknown number had texted him six words. 

_ Tell him to call his uncle. _

There was only one _ him _ someone might use Lea to get to. Only one person who he knew well enough to influence, who had made a habit of avoiding his phone as steadfastly as Lea did when his mom was trying to reach him.

Only one person who had an uncle he was avoiding enough that he might try something as underhanded as reaching out to Lea.

“I have to go,” he said, detaching himself from Rould hurriedly. “I have to find Isa, make sure he's okay.”

_ He's my brother, _ Isa's dad had said when they dropped him off.

_ And I'm your child! I'm supposed to be your priority here! _

Lea sent off a quick text to Isa.  _ I'm headed back to the dorm. You back yet? _

He didn't expect an answer, and didn't wait for one. He tucked his phone into his pocket and bolted for the dorms.

Isa wasn't back. His side of the room was compulsively clean, almost Spartan. If not for the sheets still on the bed, Lea would have thought he'd gone home. Home where his stalker uncle was waiting for him.

His phone didn't buzz, no answer from Isa came. He tried calling, after an hour, but didn't get anything there either. It went to voicemail and he didn't bother to leave a message. It was just an invitation to be ignored.

Eventually, Lea tried to go back to studying. If Isa wasn’t back by midnight, he told himself, he’d call campus police. There was no need to worry yet.

It was just after eleven when the door opened.

Lea was on his feet and halfway to the door before Isa had made it all the way inside. “Isa,” he said. “Where’ve you been? I tried to reach you but…” He trailed off.

Isa looked  _ horrible. _ He’d been crying, that was obvious even now that the swelling around his eyes had started to go down. His hair was disheveled from running his fingers through it and he wouldn’t look even in Lea’s direction, let alone at him properly.

Any thought Lea might have had of telling Isa about the text went out the window. He barely stopped himself from touching Isa, trying to reassure them both that Isa was back and safe and everything would be okay now.

Isa looked at him at last. It hadn’t been as long as Lea had thought since he stopped crying; his eyes were still puffy when Lea looked close enough.

Then without warning, Isa started to cry.

Lea couldn’t maintain boundaries when Isa was doing that. He couldn’t do it when  _ anyone _ he liked was doing that, and it was particularly bad looking at Isa, watching the distance and composure he struggled with on the best days dissolve into nothing, into a mess of sobs and sniffles. Isa covered his face with his hands, but he couldn’t hide how violently his shoulders shook, couldn’t stop the awful wailing that crept into the tears no matter how hard he tried to suppress it.

Enough was enough. Lea put a hand on Isa’s shoulder, and instead of cringing away Isa melted into him, pressed close enough that Lea almost tripped over him as he led Isa to sit on his bed and lean against him. His roommate, all defensiveness stripped away, buried his face in Lea’s shoulder and sobbed, loud heartbreaking things that made Lea want to punch whoever had made Isa feel like this.

“It’s okay,” he said, over and over, rubbing Isa’s shoulder, other hand running through his hair. “It’ll be okay.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You've caught up with the author...
> 
> Which is to say, this is as far as I've currently written. I'm trying to keep up with both this and Cast Beyond the Moon, but it's a challenge given that I work forty hours a week and come home exhausted most days. I'm doing my best. Thanks to those who've left comments and kudos.

Lea was good at lying. He hadn’t faltered in his murmurs of quiet, meaningless reassurances since Isa had started crying. Isa, for their part, was too tired to argue with him. All they wanted was for someone to hold them and tell them everything would be okay--and the only person they still trusted to do that was Lea.

“You wanna tell me what happened?” Lea asked when Isa’s breathing had started to even out again.

No. No, they didn’t. It was _humiliating_ , and letting him know gave him too much power to act on it.

“I got a text,” they muttered. “In class. And I…”

Lea didn’t say anything, but they could feel how much effort it was taking for him to stay quiet. Lea liked knowing things, they were learning that about him. They still didn’t know why, if he liked knowing things so much, he hadn’t pushed to find out everything about them. They’d just told him not to ask, and he hadn’t. He’d left them with their secrets, from who kept texting them to what they drew that they didn’t want him to see.

Maybe they could show him, they thought. Maybe it wouldn’t matter so much…

They were glad that their face was tucked into his shoulder where he couldn’t see, because they had suddenly flared crimson, they could feel it. No, they wouldn’t show Lea their sketchbook. Not all of it, at least.

But something about that combination of insatiable curiosity and patient quiet was wearing away at the walls they kept up, the coffin deep in their mental closet where they kept all their skeletal secrets. Part of them wanted to tell him everything.

_ Yeah, right, _ they thought bitterly. Tell him everything? Tell  _ anyone _ anything? Even their therapists didn’t know the worst of it. They made their best guesses, but Isa had never told.

Their silence, eventually, turned out to be all the invitation Lea needed. “From your uncle?”

They looked up at him sharply, dizzy from how quickly they’d gone from blushing to stark white.

“You were talking about him with your parents on the first day,” Lea said. His arm tightened around them, and they tried not to wince. They hadn’t let someone touch them this much, for this long, in a long time. Really, they’d never  _ let _ someone touch them at all. “And he--” He looked away, across the room at the opposite wall. “Never mind. Was it him?”

Isa nodded, burying their face in his shoulder again. “I--it was him,” they muttered. “I didn’t read it, but…”

But just hearing it had made them fall apart.

“You could have come back to the dorm,” Lea said softly. “You didn’t answer when I texted, I was starting to think--”

“I was in the hospital.”

His arm tightened again. This time they squirmed, trying to get free. His arm relaxed, and so did they. They didn’t  _ mind _ him holding them, as long as he didn’t squeeze. It was actually--kind of nice, to know that someone would just touch them, without asking for more.

“Why?” he asked at last.

“Had a meltdown in class.” They were being very honest with him, very forthcoming. Too forthcoming. But they were too tired to worry about what he might do with the information. “Counseling center trainee asked if I was considering suicide.”

“And you said yes?”

_ Too much. Don’t tell him all this. It’s not safe, he’ll hurt you, he’ll-- _

“I shrugged.”

This time, Lea wrapped his other arm around them. They tried not to tense up, but they must have failed, because he dropped that arm immediately. “Sorry,” he said quietly.

He didn’t press for more. That was good. They didn’t think they could say any more. They couldn’t tell him--couldn’t tell anyone--that the doctors had asked if they were sure they were ready for college, if they shouldn’t go home. Even if Lea knew enough to know why they  _ couldn’t _ go home. Even if he was insatiably curious, even if he must want more than anything to know what they weren’t saying, to ask if they  _ had _ been considering suicide…

“I don’t get you,” they muttered.

He laughed shortly. “That’s okay,” he said. “Not many people do.”

~

What had he expected, really? For Isa to spill his guts just because he was upset and Lea was there? If that worked on Isa, he’d already know everything about him.

It was going to kill him not knowing, though. Wondering, trying to figure out what was going on behind Isa’s eyes all the time. Pretty eyes, bright sea-green, framed by long lashes that were--

_ Fuck _ , he needed to stop.

If he told Isa that his stalker uncle had texted Lea, would it make things better or worse? Would Isa feel threatened that Lea could now talk to his uncle, or would he feel safer because Lea had refused to pass on the message?

He scratched that idea out right out. Isa wanted nothing to do with this man, and Lea didn’t blame him.

But maybe there was another way.

“Crud,” Isa muttered, scrubbing at his eyes. They were still red and puffy from crying. “I need to go to bed.”

“Right.”

Prying secrets out of Isa would have to wait. Until morning, when Isa wasn’t falling apart and he wouldn’t feel like scum for trying.

“Okay,” he said. “Come on. I’ll--help, or something. If you want me to.”

“I can go to bed on my own,” Isa muttered. There it was, the defensiveness Lea had been expecting when he got back to the dorm. The sharp edges that were wrapped around all that vulnerability like thorny armor. He was starting to realize how defensive that armor was, how important it was to keeping Isa safe. He was starting to realize, helping to keep that armor intact was the only way Isa would let him take care of him, the only way he’d let him keep him safe.

“I’ll wait here, then,” Lea said.

He should tell Isa about the text from his uncle. He should. But just now, when Isa had barely stopped crying…

“I’m fine,” Isa said, getting to his feet and scrubbing his eyes. “I’ll be fine.”

“Okay,” Lea said. Don’t argue when Isa had his armor up. It was a skill he was learning, despite how badly he wanted to open his mouth every time.

He watched Isa go and opened his phone again. That text was still there, along with the number.

He’d opened his computer, googled the number, and made it all the way to a reverse yellow pages when Isa made it back to the dorm. At that point he had to force himself not to slam the computer shut so Isa wouldn’t see. Isa, for his part, looked too tired to even notice. He crawled into bed and closed his eyes without saying a word to Lea.

Lea made sure Isa fell asleep before he started getting ready for bed. He had the covers pulled back when his phone rang. Out of habit, he checked to be sure it wasn’t his mom or stepdad before picking up.

“Hello?”

_ “Put Isa on the phone.” _

Lea’s eyes slid to the other bed, where Isa had already drifted off to sleep. “Who’s this?” he asked, getting to his feet and slipping out the door so he wouldn’t wake Isa up.

_ “I’m family,” _ the voice said.  _ “And I’m concerned. I haven’t heard from him since he left for college.” _

“Sure,” Lea said. “So you just, what? Hacked the school’s website, tracked down his roommate, and dug around until you got my cell number?”

_ “Isa had your number,” _ the man said.  _ “He gave it to his parents. My brother gave it to me.” _

The man didn’t sound like a crazy stalker. Not his voice, anyway. It was deep, cultured. If Lea could be turned on by a voice, it would’ve been one like this. The words, too, were odd, but they were technically correct. You had to be outright paranoid to distrust him so suddenly.

Fortunately, Lea excelled at paranoia.

“If you’re talking to his dad, why don’t you just ask  _ him  _ how Isa’s doing?” Lea asked. Or was Isa avoiding his dad too? Probably. From their first day’s conversation, it sounded like his dad would just tell the creepy uncle anything he asked.

_ “I’m asking you.” _

That was the voice of someone who didn’t normally get told no. That, more than the words or the fact that Isa was avoiding the man, told Lea he needed to get off the phone.

“Sorry,” Lea said. “Can’t help you.”

He hung up.

~

When Isa woke up, Lea was there.

They couldn’t quite keep from tensing up, shrinking back under the covers when they saw Lea there. He wasn’t making any threatening moves--he was just  _ sitting  _ there, on the edge of his bed, elbows braced on his knees.

Watching them.

Lea didn’t start with ‘good morning,’ or any other platitude, or ask how they were feeling. That last was good, because they really weren’t sure. They’d slept soundly, at least, worn out by the hysterics that had preceded it. But they’d also felt  _ his  _ presence, felt him watching them the whole night, no matter how deep and dreamless their sleep pretended to be.

“My dad was military,” was the first thing Lea said when he was sure they were awake.

They didn’t move. If they didn’t move, they couldn’t get in trouble. Lea had never done anything to indicate they might  _ be _ in trouble, with him or anyone else--but they didn’t know anymore, not after last night.

Lea kept going. “He taught me that protecting people was the most important job--the only job. I believed him. He, um.”

He looked down at his hands. “He died, overseas. KIA. Lots of medals, big speeches--but he just--wasn’t there anymore. And I… I didn’t know what to do.”

They didn’t know what to say.

“Taking care of people, protecting people--it’s all I’ve wanted to do,” he said at last, when the silence had stretched out too far for his taste. “It--it makes me feel like my life isn’t so out of control, if I can help someone manage theirs.”

Was he offering? Was that what this was--an invitation?

“I’m not asking you to tell me anything you’re not comfortable with,” he said. “I’m not asking for anything. I’m just offering. I’m just--hoping you’ll let me help you, with whatever it is.”

They watched him carefully, trying to find the ulterior motive they knew  _ had _ to be there.

They couldn’t find it.

They took a breath. “Hand me my sketchbook.”

~

Lea had never been allowed to touch Isa’s sketchbook before. He couldn’t help it--his hands were shaking, just enough that he noticed, not enough for the sketchbook to tremble as he handed it over.

Isa sat up slowly. He’d slept as he normally did, in sweatpants and an oversized T-shirt. He tugged the blankets tightly around his waist, so Lea couldn’t see anything below. Not, Lea told himself virtuously, that he would have looked anyway.

Isa opened his sketchbook, paging through nervously until he found whatever he was apparently looking for. He passed it over without a word, and Lea took it.

It was a self-portrait, in the way that the crazy Latina Lea could never remember the name of had done self-portraits. Isa, in the drawing, was wrapped in chains, bleeding from a hundred cuts all over his body.

He also had breasts.

Lea tried not to stare. Artistic license, or whatever, right? Maybe?

“Why are you showing me this?” he asked.

Isa pulled his knees to his chest under the blanket, wrapping his arms around them and leaning against them. “No one takes care of me,” he muttered. “The ones who try--they just want to use it to hurt me.”

Lea gripped the book tightly so he wouldn’t reach out and take Isa’s shoulder to try to reassure him. “I don’t.”

Isa nodded against his knees.

Lea chewed his tongue so he wouldn’t say anything in the silence that followed. Isa was talking to him, for once. He didn’t want to ruin it.

“I’m not a boy,” Isa muttered at last.

Lea thought his tongue might be bleeding from how hard he had to bite it so he wouldn’t say anything stupid.

“I’m not a girl either,” Isa said, the set of his shoulders getting defensive. Not  _ his, _ apparently, Lea told himself. Then what? “I’m--the technical term is ‘agender.’”

The customary thousand questions and two thousand subtle hints to answer them sprang to Lea’s lips. He swallowed them all down. “Okay,” he said instead.

Isa shot him a look. “My parents don’t get it,” they said. “Don’t pretend you do.”

Lea forced himself to shrug. “I mean, I don’t,” he said. “But--but it’s important to you, or you wouldn’t have told me. So what does it mean? What do you want me to do?”

Isa stared at him, eyes narrowed. “Call me ‘they,’” he muttered at last. “Not ‘he’ or ‘she.’ ‘They.’”

Lea had the sense that this was a test, on the scale of the exams that would eventually get him out of the police academy and onto the force. He was determined to pass it.

“They,” he said, nodding seriously. “I’ll do my best.”

Isa relaxed minutely. “I’ll remind you.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter almost didn't get done in time--I was finishing it up at work today. But it's here, if a little short. Thanks to those who have left comments and kudos, it means a lot to me.

He hadn’t looked through the rest of the sketchbook. Did he not really want to know as badly as he’d seemed to? Had he just been making conversation, or pretending interest?

The thoughts nagged at them as they got showered and dressed and went to breakfast with Lea. He was quieter than normal, thinking over what had happened.

They were under no illusions. What they'd told him was much more private, more damaging, than what he'd told them. But it was nowhere near the deepest secret they had. Telling him that was a kind of test, to see how he handled their secrets, handled _ them _ .

“Do I call you they when I'm talking to Rould?” Lea asked. “Or Lumaria?”

“Not Lumaria,” Isa said immediately. The idea of it getting back to _ him _ that they were still doing this, still calling themself not a boy or a girl--he'd be angry. “Not anyone who might tell Lumaria.”

Lea studied them, frowning, concern in every inch of his face. “Are you scared of Lumaria?”

“No,” they said immediately. It wasn't a lie, they told themself. They weren't afraid of Lumaria. They were afraid for themself if Lumaria posted more about them on his Facebook. “Just--I don't want him to know.”

“Okay,” Lea said. They were pretty sure he was actually biting his tongue to keep quiet, but he didn't press for more. They shouldn’t be impressed, they shouldn’t be glad of it. They shouldn’t feel flattered that this nosy human being kept his mouth shut so he wouldn’t make  _ them  _ uncomfortable.

“You gonna be okay to go to classes today?” Lea asked when they finished eating, getting to his feet.

“I will,” they said.

He caught their arm as they started to leave, dropping it immediately when they flinched. “If he texts you,” he said softly. “Or tries to reach you at all. Don’t look, okay? I’ll delete it for you, you don’t have to see what it said.”

They jerked their shoulder in something that might have been a shrug. “I can handle it,” he muttered. “I’ve done it this long.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to.”

There was no appropriate response to that, so they didn’t give one.

~

“How’s Isa doing?”

Lea didn’t look over his shoulder. Whatever Isa said, Lumaria scared him--them. Scared  _ them. _ This was going to be an adjustment.

“He’s fine,” he said. Isa had told him not to get them “out” to Lumaria, and he wouldn’t. But dammit, he wanted to. He wanted to respect Isa’s choices, their identity. He wanted to wrap them up and protect them from everyone who might--

_ Slow your roll, boy, _ he told himself, sitting up straight as the teacher came into the room. Isa didn’t want him taking care of them. They just--wanted him to support them.

He didn’t know why Lumaria was here to begin with.  _ Lumaria _ had no interest in being a detective. A defense attorney, maybe. Slimy, underhanded, get to be on TV and have people’s futures hang in the balance…

Sometimes he forgot how much he really hated Lumaria.

“How about Roxas?” Lumaria said. He slid into the chair beside Lea, apparently not noticing that the teacher had arrived. “Arlene said he’s dating again, is that right?”

“We don’t talk,” Lea muttered, watching the teacher set up. He was nothing like the stodgy old men who ran most of their classes. He looked like nothing short of a pirate, eyepatch and all. His hair was streaked with grey in a manner that was so symmetrical Lea assumed he’d dyed the rest of his hair to keep it black, and he wore his button-down shirt open far enough that the class could see what looked like a burn scar on the left side of his chest and knife scars on his right shoulder.

“Alright, settle down,” the man said, lifting his hands, though the class had mostly gone silent to stare at him as soon as he walked in. “Everybody listen up.

“My name is Braig Muller,” he said. “You’ll all call me Braig. Don’t get it wrong--this isn’t because we’re all going to be friends. It’s because, if you can hack this course, then odds are one day we’ll be peers.

“This class isn’t about teaching you the law and what happens to the people who break it. You’ll have time for that in later courses. This course has one job, no matter what the syllabus and course catalog said--finding out whether you have the nerve to look into the deepest, darkest parts of humanity’s heart, and whether you’ll flinch when it looks back.”

Lea listened raptly. He knew about the darkest parts of humanity’s heart, or he thought he did. He knew  _ enough _ \--he knew what his dad dreamed about when he came home on leave, he knew that it was all important enough that he kept going back, again and again, into the most dangerous places until one day he didn’t come home.

He looked over the syllabus in quick peeks as Braig went through the details. They would be learning the worst, most violent crimes. They wouldn’t be going through them as criminologists or profilers--that wasn’t the point. The point was to go through them as case studies, and examine step-by-step what had happened and what it had cost to bring the criminals to justice.

“He’s disgusting,” Lumaria said when they left two hours later. “All those things--dismemberment and serial killing--”

“Angels of Mercy,” Lea murmured, flipping through the course guide again. He’d heard of them before, even if Braig hadn’t gone into the details. He’d done a lot of studying of these things, for a long time before he’d gotten to school.

His mother would never let him join the military, not after losing his dad. Some part of her had died with him, even if she struggled to keep it alive by projecting all of her feelings for him onto her new husband. He knew, or believed (and that was almost as good as knowing, sometimes, when it was comforting to believe), that that was why she was so steadfast about referring to her new husband as Lea’s father. It was why she insisted he was a good person, no matter what happened. No matter what evidence arose to the contrary. No matter…

“I bet the department doesn’t know about this,” Lumaria said savagely. “That he’s trying to scare people out of going into criminal justice. I bet they don’t approve. I bet…”

“I bet they know,” Lea said. “Don’t a lot of the hard sciences do that--make the intro course a washout course, so they can see who can hack it?”

Not all the crimes Braig was going to cover were dramatic. That would have defeated the purpose. Their generation was used to dramatic violence--all over the TV, even in the news. Most of the crimes here were horrible but ordinary--the father who killed his daughters and left his wife alive to suffer through it, the estranged man who kidnapped his daughter, the serial rapist who got off with three years, the man who groomed his nephew to be his lover. Horrible people who anyone in the class would have thought were ordinary--who'd had families and lives before throwing them away in pursuit of their own satisfaction and power. That, Braig had said seriously, was what it meant to look into the darkest places. It wasn't all glamour and glory. It was seeing ordinary people be so awful that you couldn't help but wonder what your neighbor or brother or lover would be capable of.

“This _ isn't _ a hard science, though, Lea,” Lumaria informed him sternly. “Criminal justice isn't even really a science.”

“Political science,” Lea muttered, flipping through pages again.

“You're not even listening to me,” Lumaria said, sniffing dramatically. “I'm going to find someone who knows how to hold a conversation.”

Lea couldn't be sorry he was gone. It was lunchtime, and he wanted to see if Isa was willing to eat with him today.

~

They were nervous in a way they'd never been before. Even with Terra, they hadn't felt like this.

That had been one benefit, they supposed, to dating in the town where it had happened. They'd never _ needed _ to feel like this. They had no secrets from Terra, because not only was he from their town, he was old enough to remember the case when it hit the news. Lea was neither.

_ I used to call him my master _ , they'd told Even. They hadn't given in to his insistence that they call him by name. That was too much, too far.

They'd fidgeted all through their art history class, and when they checked the schedule Lea had posted on his side of the room and realized that his class lasted another half an hour, they'd almost screamed.

They spent several minutes pacing the room, scratching at what was left of their scar. They could tell him. They could tell him what had happened to them, what they'd been when they were young. They could--but they didn't know how he'd react, and the idea of him telling everyone else, telling _ Lumaria _ , terrified them.

They opened their phone and stared at their recent calls. There was only one name on the list besides Lea.

_ Don't call me again either _ .

He didn't _ hate  _ them, they reasoned. He didn't not want to hear from them. He just didn't want to hurt them, and it scared him to think how much they needed him.

The phone was ringing before they'd decided what excuse they'd give if he got angry.

“Please don't hang up,” they blurted when they heard the click that meant the phone had been answered. “I promise it's not bad.”

There was a moment of hesitation. Then, “Isa…”

“I think I like him.” They sat on their bed against the wall, pulling their knees to their chest. “My--my roommate. I shouldn't but I do.”

Now Terra actually seemed happy. There was a smile in his voice, at least. “Isa, you're allowed to like people. I'm glad you like him. Is he--has he hurt you, is that why you're upset?”

Now he sounded worried, and they hated making him feel that way. “No,” they said. “He--he's nice, he wants to help me and--and I cried and he held me,” they finished in a mumble.

“You let him touch you?”

They winced. Terra sounded more than surprised. They might be imagining it, but he sounded _ jealous. _

“Y-yeah,” they said. “A few times. He--I've let him hold me.”

“Isa.” Terra was smiling again. That made them happy, that they could make him smile. “That's a good thing. You like him holding you?”

They nodded, then remembered he couldn't hear. “Yeah,” they said. “I--”

Their phone started to buzz in their hand. Instinctively, they took it away from their ear to look at the caller ID.

A roaring filled their ears. The world went grey around the edges. As though from a distance they heard themself saying, “I have to go.”

“Isa?” Terra was worried now. “Isa!”

“I have to go,” they said again louder. “I’m sorry, I have to--”

“Isa,  _ don’t you dare hang up on me! _ ”

They froze, so abruptly still their breath caught in their chest.

Terra let out a breath on the other end of the line. “Isa?” he asked softer. “You still with me?”

Shakily, they nodded, and then remembered he couldn’t see them. “Yeah,” they said, putting the phone back to their ear. “I’m here.”

“Good,” Terra said. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to--”

“Thank you.”

He stopped, letting out another breath. They winced. They’d meant to reassure him that it was okay and he’d done the right thing, but he was upset again and now it was their fault.

“You like this guy?” Terra asked. “Lea?”

They nodded, swallowing hard as the phone buzzed again to alert them that he’d left a voicemail.

“Don’t listen to the message,” Terra said. “Give it to Lea to delete.”

Their mouth was dry, their throat raw. “What if he listens?” they whispered when they could find breath to speak.

“Then you’ll know he’s not worth it.”

The door chose that moment to open, admitting Lea, deep in reading what looked to be a course syllabus. He looked up, smiling and waving when he saw Isa, and retreated to his desk.

“He’s here,” Isa said.

“Okay,” Terra said. “Let him help you, okay, Isa? You need someone. Someone who’s  _ there. _ ”

“I will.” They clamped their lips together--the traitor things wanted to say the forbidden words. They  _ did _ still love Terra, but they’d accepted that they couldn’t have him again. And anyway, they felt  _ something  _ for Lea. Something  _ new. _

“Bye, Terra,” they said.

“Bye, Isa. Take care of yourself.”

They hung up and offered the phone to Lea. “There’s a voicemail,” they said by way of hello. “I need you to delete it.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to warn you guys, I was out of town for my baby cousin's first birthday (okay, also to swim. My grandma has a house on a lake) last weekend and didn't get ANY writing done. I could have rushed through this chapter last Monday, but it's a fairly important chapter and I thought it was better to just wait.

Isa was handing him their phone.

Isa was  _ trusting _ him with their  _ phone. _

He knew--he didn’t have to ask--who the voicemail was from. Part of him was surprised that it had taken him this long to make the jump from texting to calling. Surely it was easier to ignore a text than a voicemail… but it was also, he supposed, significantly harder to hide that you were harassing someone if you kept calling them. People could overhear, if you were forever calling your target.

He didn’t realize he’d reached out to take the phone until he saw his fingers shaking. Then he almost snatched his hand back before he caught himself and forced it to stay steady.

“Okay,” he said.

Isa was watching him carefully. Nervously. He knew what they had to be thinking--they were wondering if he’d listen to the voicemail before he deleted it. This was a test.

He intended to pass.

He took the phone and carefully, casually, pulled up the voicemail. He didn’t put it to his ear or put the phone on speaker. He listened, very closely, until he heard the words  _ “First unheard message.” _

He hit 7.

If he strained, he could hear  _ “Message deleted. End of new messages. Check erased--” _

He hung up and handed the phone back to Isa. “It’s gone.”

Isa took it, looking lost and confused and almost--almost afraid. “You didn’t--listen to it.”

“No,” Lea said. “Did you want to know what it said?”

Isa shook their head. “I know what it said,” they muttered. “I didn’t--want to hear it.” Defensively they added, “That’s why I  _ gave _ it to you.”

They hesitated. The look on their face was awful to see--some mix of pain and hope that tore at Lea’s heart and made him want to make everything better for them, make all the pain go away and show them that it was okay to hope, that he’d make sure their hopes came true.

“I know it is,” Lea said quietly. “That’s why I didn’t listen to it.”

Isa nodded, staring at the phone in their hands, turning it over and over. Finally they muttered something that, try though he might, Lea couldn't quite make out.

“What?”

Isa flushed bright red and turned away. “Never mind.”

Lea knew better, he did, but he seized Isa's wrist. Isa flinched, but didn't pull away, not quite.

“I'm sorry,” Lea said. “I just didn't hear. Please tell me?”

Isa swallowed, cheeks still burning, what little of them Lea could see from this angle. “I like you,” he said. “Alright? And I thought--I thought you'd listen and I'd hate you for it and I'd get over you, but you didn't so I don't so just-- _ shit. _ ” He took a deep breath. “I just want you to be--be someone I can put aside.”

“You want to put me aside?” That wasn't what Isa had said, but it was what Lea had heard, playing into all his worst fears about being unwanted, being _ forgotten _ .

“No,” Isa whispered, tugging their wrist away to wipe their eyes with that hand. “I don't. And it  _ kills _ me because I'm afraid if I don't, you'll put _ me _ aside. Or worse.”

“Never.”

Lea didn't remember getting to his feet. He certainly didn't remember taking Isa's wrist again, or pulling them close. But he had, and against all odds Isa turned into him, letting Lea wrap his arms around them.

“Never,” he repeated. “You don't even know--I feel like I've been waiting my whole life to meet you.”

The way Isa looked when they thought no one was watching. The sharp, thorny armor, cracked like glass all over, breaking every time someone pushed them too hard. The self portrait, jealously guarded, holding themself tightly to keep anyone from trying to touch them. The way they let Lea touch them, even now, clung to him like they thought he'd ever let go.

“I don't let people touch me,” they muttered against his chest. “I _ never _ let people touch me.”

“That's okay,” Lea said flippantly. “I've been reliably informed I don't really count as a person anyway.”

They laughed into his chest, a horrible choked sound. 

“Seriously,” Lea said quietly. “I won't let you go. Not until you want me to.”

“Never,” they mumbled, so quiet Lea wasn't sure he'd heard it at all.

“Does that mean I'm allowed to take you to lunch?” Lea asked. “Because I gotta tell you, I'm starving.”

Isa snorted and nodded, but didn't pull back. Lea didn't try to make them, just wrapped an arm around their shoulders so they could walk side-by-side.

“Who were you talking to when I got here?” he asked when they were out of the dorm and headed across the road to the student center.

Isa stiffened, and he had just enough time to regret the question before they took a breath and forced themself to relax. “My ex.”

“Ex-boyfriend or girlfriend?” Lea asked. Whatever normally let him shut up around Isa and let them keep their secrets was derailed for the moment, lost in the sea of revelations and upheavals that the day had turned out to be so far.

Reluctantly Isa muttered, “I've never had a girlfriend.”

“Was he nice?” Lea asked. “Handsome? Should I be jealous?”

Isa looked away. Something in their posture told Lea they were about to pull away and put their armor back up around them. He couldn't stand to let that happen.

He turned them to face him, tugging them into another hug. “Sorry,” he whispered into their hair--they were shorter than him, just a little. “I'll be quiet.”

Isa was tense in his arms, but slowly they took a deep breath instead of pulling away. “I don't want to talk about him,” they said. “I--I miss him. But he's…”

“I won't ask anymore,” Lea promised. “Come on, let's go to lunch.”

Isa nodded, and let him keep his arm around him as they went inside.

In the door of the cafeteria, Isa hesitated, looking around like a cornered rabbit. Finally their eyes settled on a table by the window, overlooking the quad three stories below. “Here,” they said, fishing out their ID and handing it to Lea. “Pick--pick something out for me.”

Lea’s heart thudded as he took the card from Isa. “You don't like Pepsi,” he said.

Isa nodded, already pulling away toward the quieter table. “I liked what you got me last time,” they said halfheartedly, though Lea couldn't tell if that was a hint or if they were saying it because they thought he wanted to hear it. It bothered him that they might do that, but he saw no reason to think they wouldn't.

“Okay,” he said, watching them leave, knuckles white where they gripped the ID card. 

Another test. Not a particularly subtle one, either. Isa was testing whether he was able and willing to take care of them, to do it _ their  _ way. It was a test--but the fact that Isa trusted him enough to test him at all was flattering, and made his gut warm with excitement and nerves.

Last time he'd gotten a wrap sandwich, but he didn't want to give Isa the same thing. He wandered for a minute before his eyes landed on a chicken club sandwich at the station where he always got his burgers. Who didn't like bacon? he figured.

The look on Isa's face when he brought the food over made it worth it. Their mouth hooked to one side in a crooked smile. “Getting fancy there, are you?” they asked. But they took the chicken club with significantly more enthusiasm than they'd shown the wrap.

Lea didn't eat right away. He toyed with his fries, watching them until he thought they were comfortable enough to keep eating if he told them. And he _ had _ to tell them, now that they were being all honest and sharing and shit.

“He texted me,” he said reluctantly. “Called me, too, just last night.”

He'd misjudged them. They were very still, so much like a rabbit that Lea expected their ears to twitch. Slowly, they put the sandwich down like they thought it might bite them, staring at the table as their ears turned red.

“He was saying he was concerned,” Lea said, twisting his straw between his fingers. “Had a lot of bullshit for how he got my number--said you gave it to your dad, and he passed it on.” Finally, because nothing else would make Isa relax enough to talk, he said, “I hung up on him.”

Isa's head jerked up, staring at him with narrowed eyes. “You what?”

“I hung up on him,” Lea repeated. “I told him I wouldn't give you the phone and hung up on him.”

Isa stared at him.

“He called asking to talk to you,” Lea said defensively. “And you were asleep, and I knew you didn't want to talk to him anyway. So--”

“You hung up on him,” Isa repeated. “You didn't--ask him anything? Tell him anything?”

They looked lost, and scared. They'd gone from a rabbit to a baby deer who woke up under a tree and found that their mom hadn't come to get them.

“Nothing,” Lea said. “Well, I got his excuses for having my number in the first place. But I didn't tell him anything, not how you were doing or anything.”

Isa stared at their tray. They weren't eating. Lea should have waited until they were done eating to start this conversation. “What did he tell you?” they asked in a whisper.

“Nothing,” Lea said. What was Isa afraid the guy had told him? “He called you ‘he,’” he remembered. “When he called, he called you he. Does he not know?”

Isa pushed the tray away and wrapped their arms around themself tightly. “He knows,” they whispered. “He knows, he just doesn't--he--”

On impulse, Lea got up and went around the table. Isa sucked in a breath when he wrapped his arms around them, but after a moment they leaned into him.

“I don't let people touch me,” they whispered.

“I'm not people,” Lea reminded them.

They laughed shakily. “So what am I?”

“I don't know,” Lea said after a moment. “What do you want to be?”

They didn't answer. Lea thought they wouldn't answer, until finally they said, “Safe.”

Lea froze. Isa kept talking.

“Protected,” they said. “Not just safe. I want--I want someone to protect me.”

Hesitantly, not sure that was where this was going, Lea said, “I can do that.”

Isa leaned into him. “I was hoping you would.”

~

They'd expected to feel better once the conversation had been held. Once Lea knew they liked him, and they knew he liked them. Instead, they feel weak and shaky, like their insides had turned to water.

They'd tried so hard never to give anyone power over them, after _ he _ went to jail. They'd even tried to keep Terra at arm's length, for a while anyway. When the walls finally caved in, it had been a disaster. 

But this was Lea. Lea who so readily promised to protect them--had proclaimed that protecting was all he wanted to do, had meant it as far as their suspicious eyes could tell. They were trying, trying to convince the scared rabbit in the corner of their brain that he wouldn't hurt them.

It wasn't working.

They shouldn't have done it, they thought the whole afternoon. Several times they opened their phone to text Lea and tell him--but every time they couldn't think of what they might tell him. Every time they put the phone away.

Their last class of the day was one they shared with Ienzo. When the boy took a seat beside them, they tried to busy themself with their sketchbook so he wouldn't look over at them, or worse, try to _ talk _ to them.

It didn't work. “You don't look well,” Ienzo said quietly, putting a hand on their arm. 

They flinched so badly they almost fell out of their chair.

Ienzo pulled his hand away, looking stricken. “I'm sorry,” he said, voice low to keep from drawing any more attention than they had with the rattle of their chair. “I didn't mean to make it worse.”

“It's not that.” Isa dragged a hand over their face. “It's just--been a really weird day. Sorry. I shouldn't have done that.”

Ienzo was quiet as the rest of the class filed in. Finally, quietly, he said, “I'm sorry. I don't like people touching me without warning either--I shouldn't have done it to you.”

They stared at him. Without warning, without their permission, their mouth started forming words.

“What if there's someone you _ want _ to touch you?” they asked, voice soft so no one else would hear. “What if there's someone--but how do you know they won't hurt you when they do?”

Ienzo glanced at the teacher with his one visible eye. Quietly, he took out his notebook and started writing. Isa sighed, looking away, until a piece of paper was slid in front of them.

They picked up the note.  _ Did Lea do something to hurt you? _

Their eyes went to Ienzo immediately, wide and terrified. Ienzo shrugged, wrote on the next page of his notebook.

_ You don't like being touched, but you were snuggled up to him at the party. _

They were blushing. They could feel it. They buried their face in their hands to try to hide it, breathing deep until they got it under control.

“He didn't hurt me,” they mumbled into their hands.

_ Why do you think he will?  _ the next note asked.

They scribbled their answer.  _ Everyone does, in the end. If you let them close enough to do it. _

Ienzo didn't write a response right away. He didn't write one for so long Isa thought he agreed, and there was nothing more to say.

At the end of the class, though, he dropped a last note in front of them.

_ If everyone hurts you, then you have two choices. Either you can shut everyone out, forever, and die alone and lonely. Or you can let someone in, and enjoy the good times. And maybe they'll prove you wrong. _

They'd just finished reading when their phone buzzed. They checked it, stomach twisting into nervous knots when they saw it was from Lea.

_ There's a nice Thai place off campus _ , the text read.  _ Can I take you there for dinner? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That Thai place, incidentally, is directly modeled after my own college experience (as is pretty much all the scenery in this fic). In this case, it's Lemon Thai, a place a few blocks from Wellesley College, where I spent my first year. I don't know if it's still open, but I DO know that they served duck as one of the proteins you could put in your curry, and I know it was the best Thai food I've ever had. Eight years later I'm still trying to find something as good, because flying out to Boston for a curry is impractical.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi hi! Please bear with my rambling there's important stuff in here:
> 
> I really need to get better at warning you guys when I'm not going to be around, but honestly I didn't realize my weekend would be nonexistent until about Friday afternoon. Last week I worked Saturday (picked up a shift so a coworker could spend it with his kid), then drove down to Tennessee to pick up my cousin and drove BACK and then birthday celebrations Monday (I'm old now, shush).
> 
> I DID expect to have this up yesterday, but I ended up blocked because until now I've had a rough "flow" in my head and an ending in mind but haven't sat down to outline it in full. I did that around 3:00 yesterday afternoon and spent the rest of the day working on it and finished this chapter this morning. I don't expect to miss an update between now and wrapping this up.
> 
> The real purpose of this AN, however, is not to make excuses. It's to warn you. I feel that this chapter deserves a warning because frankly, it was more upsetting to me to write than any other chapter.
> 
> I haven't been through what these kids have--frankly, I hope none of you have either. I do my best to be respectful with it. That said, this chapter deals pretty up-front and heavily with the repercussions of the trauma I've tagged for in the fic overall. Again, I did my best, and if I got anything wrong please do tell me so I can address it and make it better. But be warned this chapter has the explicit portrayal of flashbacks and panic attacks, and allusions to what those particular flashbacks are about.
> 
> You guys have seen a lot of stuff in this fic already, but I'm warning you now because this particular event (minor spoilers) isn't caused by anyone who means anyone else harm. It's a line that the person didn't know was there being crossed suddenly and terrifying the other person. Because the horrible, sad truth of trauma--and this one I do know from experience--is that after it happens, even people who mean well and love you and want nothing but the best for you--there's lines there that they don't know are there until they cross them, and it can mess you up just as badly as if they did it on purpose.
> 
> If you don't feel up to reading it, or want a more explicit warning before you take it on, read the author's note at the end of the chapter for a (heavy on spoilers) summary.

He’d sent that text  _ minutes _ ago.

Lea checked his phone for the fifth time since he'd sent it. Had he been wrong? Was Isa only interested in being friends?

He spent several minutes composing a text explaining that there was no pressure, if Isa didn't like him like _ that _ he'd just forget he ever said anything. Then he deleted it without sending. He _ did _ want to be with Isa. And Isa said they liked him, didn't they?

God, he was driving himself _ nuts  _ with this.

Maybe Isa's class had run late. Maybe they hadn't seen their phone yet. Maybe they'd turned it off so their creepy uncle couldn't text them and send them into another spiral.

He was still “maybe-ing himself to death,” as his dad used to call it, when his phone buzzed.

_ Okay. _

Just the one word, and Lea's mind spun with questions. Okay?  _ Okay? _ Did that mean they wanted to, or that they were afraid to say no? He hated that they might not say no to him even if they wanted to. He didn't want that from them at all. He wasn't that kind of boyfriend.

_ See you soon, _ he texted back, and resumed pacing.

A minute later, doubts intruded again. Should he have sounded so sure of himself? Should he be asking more gently, proposing instead of declaring? Should he have made that a question instead of a statement?

Isa was so _ scared _ . Even now, Lea had the horrible sense they were afraid of _ him, _ and he wanted nothing so much as he wanted to reassure them. But he didn't know how. Every time he reached for them, he was half-convinced they would pull away. He wasn’t sure he could handle it if one day he was right.

Christ, he was in deep.

The door opened before he could wear too much of a groove in the floor, revealing Isa and--behind them--Ienzo. Each of them was carrying a box, and Lea’s mind stuttered over wondering what was  _ in _ those before he remembered the discussion at the party.

“You guys figured out a price and all?” he asked, reaching for the box in Isa’s arms. “Can I help with those?”

Isa turned away, setting the box on their desk before Lea could so much as breathe on it. “I’m fine,” they muttered. They glanced at Ienzo as he set his own box next to the dresser, in the tiny corner of space that wouldn’t block them from opening the door.

Ienzo caught Isa’s eye and nodded, smiling so quickly it was gone before Lea could process that the boy, normally as quiet as Isa, had made the expression at all.

“I’ll see you in class,” Ienzo said to Isa, nodded to Lea, and was gone.

Isa turned to Lea, eyes on the ground and hands twisting together nervously. Lea opened his mouth to say something, but nothing would come.

Finally, very quietly, he said, “I really like you.”

Isa flinched.

Lea’s heart sank, and he turned away so Isa wouldn’t see the hurt on his face. “Sorry,” he muttered. “I’ll just--we don’t have to--forget it. Pretend I didn’t say anything.”

Isa sucked in a breath. Lea tried not to think too hard about the fact that it shook.

Try though he might, he couldn’t hear the whisper that followed. He turned back, trying not to hug himself the way Isa clearly wanted to. “I didn’t--get that,” he said. “Sorry.”

Isa swallowed. “I like you,” they muttered, looking anywhere but at Lea. “I  _ told _ you that.”

“Yeah, but…” He trailed off, gesturing helplessly, trying to indicate the boxes of paint and the way Isa wouldn’t look at him when they came in with Ienzo. “I don’t know,” he said, sighing, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Sorry. I just--I thought you changed your mind.”

Isa was drifting closer to him, hesitant, like they thought he’d grab them or hit them or yell at them or  _ something, _ he hadn’t done anything to deserve the look on their face.

Someone had. Probably the same uncle who Isa was so scared of even hearing over the phone.

“I want to help you,” he whispered as Isa tried to look like they weren't coming towards him. “I want to protect you, take care of you and stop anyone from hurting you ever again.”

Isa didn’t look convinced. They were trying to hide it, Lea knew that, but he could also tell that they were sure he’d hurt them and it was only a matter of time.

“Do you want to go to dinner?” he asked.

Isa hesitated a fraction of a second before nodding.

“Okay.” Lea picked up his wallet and stuffed it in his pocket. “You ready?”

Another hesitation. Another nod.

~

_ Maybe they’ll prove you wrong. _

If Lea didn’t hurt them, he’d be the first. Their parents had done it, so casually Isa had never had the nerve to tell them they were doing it at all. Worse than their hurting them would be finding out that they’d known all along it would hurt them and had done it anyway.

Their friends at home had done it. When the news broke, Isa had been flooded with two reactions: the people who avoided them like they'd come down with some terrible plague, and the people who tried to fix them. Both of them hurt in equal measure, if different ways.

Terra had hurt them. They shoved that thought aside.

“Do you _ want _ to?” Lea pressed. “I mean _ want _ to, not just that you'll go because you think I won't like you if you don't, or something.”

Isa shrugged, not looking at him. He wasn't touching them, not an arm around their shoulders or a gentle press of lips to their forehead. They should be glad--they didn't like being touched. But they weren't. Touch was a drug, as addictive as it was toxic, and now that they'd started to let Lea do it they wanted _ more. _

(If they let him touch them, if they let him get  _ used _ to touching them, he'd want to touch other parts of them. They'd have to explain they didn't want it, and argue when he objected. They'd have to tell him why. And when he left, they’d have to give up being touched all over again, touched like this, gentle and comforting and  _ safe-- _ ( _ Terra didn’t push you, _ whispered the little part of their mind that still, somehow, trusted people not to do what everyone else did.  _ You said no and he stopped-- _ ))

There was no use thinking about it because there was nothing they could  _ do. _ They couldn’t even turn away, couldn’t pretend they didn’t want it when Lea wrapped his arms around them. They  _ did _ want it, much too badly.

“I want to go with you,” they mumbled, safely into his shoulder where he could hear them but not look at their face. “I want to--to go with you, to be with you.”

“But you’re afraid.”

It wasn’t a question. He knew, he  _ knew _ . They didn’t like the tone in his voice when he said it, like they'd hurt him. They wrapped their arms around him in turn. “Not of you,” they mumbled.

Not exactly, anyway. But he seemed to understand.

Fishing for something to make him less  _ sad, _ they landed on the most absurd part of their hesitation. “I’ve never had Thai,” they said.

Lea laughed into their hair. “You haven’t?” he asked. “Well, I have. All the time until my dad died. He liked trying all the different places. He’d been to most of the countries, so he could tell us which of the restaurants were for real and which were dumbed down for Americans.”

“So which is this one?” they asked. Lea was warm, solid under their fingers. They curled their hands in his vest--he was wearing a bright orange one today, and dimly they remembered him wearing it the day they met. “For real, or dumbed down?”

His hand was combing through their hair. They might have complained--he might end up getting it to lie flat--but it felt too good. “I don’t know,” he said. “I read some reviews, but no actual Thai people answered, or anyone who said they'd been to Thailand. We'll find out when we get there.”

He was so  _ solid. _ They felt more solid with him holding them, like the cracks threaded through them had sealed up. They closed their eyes, drinking in the feeling like the first water after forty days in the desert.

It would end, they knew it would end eventually. When he hurt them, when he proved he was just as dangerous and unstable as everyone else, they wouldn’t be able to feel safe like this anymore. They’d made this mistake before. They’d been down this road, seen exactly where it ended. But right now, they felt too good to care.

“I want to go,” they mumbled into his shoulder.

He shifted, hand leaving their hair to wrap around their shoulders instead. “Then let's go.”

~

The campus was bigger than Lea had really realized. The restaurant they were going to was right outside the property line, but it took them a good twenty minutes to get to it. Outside the dorms were the academic buildings, and past that were acres of grass and sports fields that they had to cross to get to the archways designating the end of campus.

“So are you a local?” Lea asked as they walked. Most people who went to a college like this one were, and he realized belatedly that if Isa knew that, they might be just as curious about him as he was being about them.

“No,” they muttered. They scratched their forehead absently, looking around, nervous again. “I didn't want to go to school nearby.”

He had the sense he was prying something from them they didn't want to let go. He backed off in a hurry. “Me either,” he said, forcing a laugh. “All I could think about was getting away from my stepdad and his daughter.”

“You have a stepdad?” Isa asked.

Lea winced. Well, it was only fair, right? He'd gotten enough of Isa's secrets. And the ones he hadn't gotten, he was still trying to. 

“Yeah,” he said. “His daughter is dating Lumaria. That's why he thinks we're friends, because he's convinced himself I actually like Arlene.”

“Is she as bad as he is?”

Isa sounded so revolted that Lea actually laughed. “She's worse,” he said. “Lumaria will pretend to be nice to get you to like him. Arlene just wants you to feel inferior. Whether you like her, or yourself when she's done with you, is totally optional.”

“I hate her,” Isa muttered.

“I do too,” Lea assured them. “Most people hate them, but you don't let them find out, or they never leave you alone.”

They passed two police officers who were apparently stopping in at the Chipotle on the corner by the entrance to the school. Lea couldn't help waving at them, and was surprised to find that Isa relaxed, just a fraction, and lifted their hand to say hi.

The officers, Lea thought, would have scared most people. The shorter one was over six feet tall, twice as wide across the shoulders as the skinny Isa. His partner could have carried him piggyback at a full sprint. That Isa appeared to trust the men to help them gave Lea hope that whatever had happened to them, the police had done their job.

The officers, for their part, were halfway to their patrol car, and barely stopped to wave back before climbing in and turning on the sirens as the smaller one--relatively speaking--tossed their dinner in the back.

“Come on,” Lea said, tugging Isa toward the restaurant. “You still want to go?”

Isa looked up at him, startled out of their quiet, as though they’d forgotten he was there even with his arm around them.

He smiled at them, gently, rephrasing it as a question. He couldn’t take it personally, he told himself. He couldn’t be hurt that Isa sank into their own head. He knew as well as anyone, it had probably been the only safe place they had for a long time. “You hungry?” he asked.

They opened their mouth, closed it again. “How spicy is Thai?” they asked.

Lea laughed. This time, when he started walking, Isa fell in beside him, wrapping their arm around his waist and tangling it in the pocket of his vest. “You can get it on a scale from one to ten,” he said. “I usually get an eight, but don’t take my word for it. Every so often I go out for Indian and tell them to make it the way they eat it, just to see how far I can get before I can’t eat any more.”

Isa laughed, snuggling into his side.

Lea kept up a steady stream of chatter the short block to the restaurant, telling Isa all about the different dishes that would be on the menu. Part of him hoped Isa would let him choose a meal for them again, but he wanted them to be prepared.

He paused at the door to the restaurant, turning to look down at them. They were looking up at him, lips parted like they were going to say something.

He didn’t know what possessed him. They were just there, just  _ there, _ and it hit him for the first time that they  _ wanted _ him, wanted to be  _ with _ him. This scared, suspicious creature  _ liked _ him, trusted him enough not to bolt.

He leaned down, pressing his lips to theirs.

~

Their brain stuttered, stopped-- _ screamed. _

They went rigid in his arms, trembling from how hard they were holding still, scared of what would happen when the kiss ended. Kisses only ended one of two ways,  _ do you love me, Isa?--Isa, I’m sorry-- _

It took them a minute to realize that Lea wasn’t kissing them anymore. He wasn’t holding them still, his arm wasn’t around them anymore. Their eyes were shut tight, they couldn’t see where he was--they didn’t know where he was-- _ please don't hurt me, I'm sorry-- _

“Isa, please look at me.”

Down. His voice was coming from below them and they took a full step back as they opened their eyes, only to be caught by his hands--he  _ was _ holding them still, he was--

Holding their hands. Their  _ hands. _

“I’m sorry,” Lea was saying, over and over until their eyes were on him and they could hear what it was. “I'm so sorry.”

He was on his knees in front of them, and it scared them, badly, they wanted to pull away and run, nothing good ever happened from someone being on their knees--

“I wasn't thinking.” Lea let go of their hands when they took a step back. “I didn't think--I didn't realize it would upset you, I'm sorry, Isa, I won't do it again.”

He was blurry all of a sudden. It took several seconds for them to realize there were tears building in their eyes. They stopped their progress backwards to rub them away.

“Isa, I'm so sorry,” Lea said. “I won't do it again, I promise, I'm _ sorry _ , please look at me.”

He'd said _ please _ , but it was an order. They looked at him, lip quivering.

He looked as miserable as they did (of course he did, they'd pushed him away, he'd be angry when the shock wore off), crouching (not kneeling, that was important wasn't it?) with his hands resting on his knees. 

“I'm sorry I scared you,” he said quietly, looking at them with something too open and honest to be believed. “I'm sorry I didn't ask. I didn't realize it would upset you like this. I won't do it again, I promise.”

_ It's okay, Isa. I won't ask. _

_ Look at me, pet. Let me see how it feels. _

“I don't--no one kisses me,” they whispered. “No one…”

“I won't do it again,” Lea promised.

It hit them in a rush that they were standing outside a restaurant and everyone could see them. They curled their shoulders in defensively, glancing around to see if anyone was watching them. They couldn't see anyone, but that didn't mean anything really. People could hide when they wanted to.

“Can I hug you?” Lea asked tentatively.

They wanted him to. But they didn't want him to do anything else. They wrapped their arms around their chest tightly, shaking their head.

“Okay.” Lea got to his feet slowly, hands out so they could see he wasn't holding anything (like that made anyone less able to hurt them, especially the person they let protect them and gave the _ right _ to hurt them). “Do you still want to get dinner?”

If they didn't eat now, he might not get them anything later.

_ You will eat, Isa. _

They didn't realize they'd made a sound, but Lea lurched toward them before catching himself.

“I'm sorry,” he said. “Do you want me to leave?”

They were the one to move forward this time, grabbing at his arms and holding him still, at a safe distance while they pressed their face into his shoulder.

“Don't leave me,” they whispered. “Please don't leave me.”

“I won't,” Lea whispered immediately, not moving to touch them. “Not until you want me to.”

He let them stay like that, holding onto him but not being held, until the shaking and terror died down to their normal levels. Until they could process that he _ hadn't _ tried to touch them when they said no, even when they were holding onto him for dear life.

“Do you want to go in and eat?” Lea asked gently. “We can go somewhere else if you want. We can go back to the dorm and get something delivered, or you can go somewhere without me.”

“Not without you,” they whispered. “I don't--want to go without you.”

No one was safe, they knew that. They couldn't trust anyone, they knew _ that.  _ But maybe they could pretend, at least for a little longer.

They took a breath. “Let's go in.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At the end of the chapter, on impulse, Lea kisses Isa. This triggers a major flashback to their abuse. If you want to skip it, read up until the moment Lea kisses Isa and stop. The following is a brief summary:
> 
> This triggers a violent flashback to Isa's abuser. They are totally unable to move or process what's happening until Lea lets go and moves away. They are so upset and disoriented even after that Lea asks if he should leave, at which point they grab him and hold tightly, but still do not let him actively hold them.

**Author's Note:**

> I have an online presence again, outside of posting weekly updates. You can find me on Twitter and Tumblr at sardonisms.


End file.
